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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26681878">Second Chances</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyldehart/pseuds/wyldehart'>wyldehart</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Homecoming [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: Deep Space Nine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Complete, M/M, Romance, Sensual Play</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:14:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>23,942</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26681878</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyldehart/pseuds/wyldehart</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Set approximately ten years into the future, Elim Garak has freed himself from the constraints of his role as Cardassia's first elected leader. Having secured who he believes is the best leader for a newly democratic Cardassia's future, he embarks on a journey back to Deep Space Nine, which has resumed its place as a major transportation and commerce hub under Bajoran leadership. Eager to reconnect with his younger friend, Doctor Julian Bashir, Garak finds himself coming home, but it isn't as welcoming as he had hoped and there are signs that trouble beyond his knowledge are afoot...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Julian Bashir/Elim Garak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Homecoming [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1941514</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Garak</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Second Chances”- A DS9 Fanfiction</p>
<p>Star Date: 2389, Ten years after Garak returns to Cardassia</p>
<p>
  <strong>Chapter 1: Garak</strong>
</p>
<p>The shuttle was full of all manner of people, children and adults of many, many species. There were Cardassians, Bajorans, humans, even some Ferengi and not a few federation personnel. I was in awe of how diverse the influx of sentient life was on this shuttle, which I took from a small outpost orbiting Cardassia Prime.</p>
<p>It was time to go <em>home</em>.</p>
<p>Such as home was—I wasn’t quite sure where home was anymore. Granted, I had lived on Cardassia Prime for the better part of the last ten years, from the end of the Dominion war until very recently. I still owned a modest residence on the planet’s surface, which was warm and had room enough for my various hobbies, such as they were. I had my orchids, my life and a sense of having done some good for my people. They <em>had</em> elected me Castellon, after all—perhaps not their wisest decision. Still, in my wisdom, or insanity; the choice is yours, they elected <em>me</em> to lead them in their first <em>democratic</em> election.</p>
<p>Yes, yes, the man who once argued against such a flawed, unreliable system with Dr. Bashir to his great annoyance, had enshrined it into the Cardassian political system because it was the system that would usher in the best chance for peace and cooperation with the Federation. Despite the multitude of daggers pointed at my back and the reality that I could die at the whim of any enraged gul’s former spouse or child, I did a rather excellent job if I do say so myself.</p>
<p>This ‘simple tailor’ had risen far above his station and exceeded <em>all</em> expectations, even as Castellon.</p>
<p>Cardassia is where Bajor was nearly twenty years ago, around the time of my exile, and were now seeking entry into the Federation. Imagine that! The beings who once nearly led to the destruction of the entire Alpha Quadrant at the behest of the Dominion were now petitioning for coexistence with the Federation. All because… of me. It still amazes me; it was never my intention.</p>
<p>And yet, here we are.</p>
<p>Having driven my people to make this decision, I have decided to move on, my penultimate task over, to allow another younger, more enlightened man to take my place. It was the right thing to do and with everything I had set up, a fat politician’s pension lining my accounts and plenty of time on my hands, I had made a decision: to go <em>home</em>.</p>
<p>So, where exactly is home to a former exile/gardener/tailor/bureaucrat/politician/former-head-of-state spy? As I gazed out the port hole closest to my seat, I wondered if I had made the right decision. After all, it isn’t every lifetime that you get a second chance to make things right when you knew you should have made them right the first time around. Home. I wasn’t even certain I had a home anymore.</p>
<p>But <em>home</em> was what I needed most now. Cardassia Prime, even the lovely garden estate I owned, was not really “home” to me anymore. “Home” had taken on a another meaning—another direction. It was a place, of course, but more than that, it was an emotion; a feeling; a sense of belonging. Home was where a certain young doctor was still caring for people on a space station near the spot where a wormhole used to reside. Home was a foundation, a sturdy structure, but it was no longer a specific place to me.</p>
<p>I yearned to belong again, to be a part of something outside of my control. As Castellon, I had grown weary of making decisions and signing documents. Even my days in the Obsidian Order were more eventful than my life as Castellon. To put it simply: I was <em>bored</em>. I missed Bashir and I missed Deep Space Nine.</p>
<p>I missed <em>home</em>.</p>
<p>Even <em>if</em> it was too cold, too bright and people still glared at me as if I didn’t belong here. Still, I had something here I hadn’t expected to ever have again: friends.</p>
<p>Our shuttle docked at Deep Space 9 at fourteen-hundred hours, past the lunchtime hour and a fine time for settling in before things got hectic. I was thrust along with the tidal wave of bodies as they pushed for the exit to our shuttle and I staggered out of the airlock behind a blended family of five—a human woman with her Cardassian husband and two small children. A quick check with my contact aboard the station confirmed that Dr. Bashir—whose rank was now Commander, apparently, as far as Starfleet was concerned—was still aboard the station as its chief medical officer and working out of a much-improved medical office.</p>
<p>Content that I had finally come home, I was suddenly faced with the reality of my homecoming—it was not the same place I had left ten years prior. It had changed! Oh, certainly the structure was the same but the aura it projected, and the lights and colors were nothing like I remembered. It was brighter, less austere, and more—human—than I recalled it ever being in my time. Even the Bajorans had lost control of it, it seemed. Not that I minded this change, being a man of brilliant color myself, but it <em>was</em> different.</p>
<p>After regaining my bearings on the station, I found the station manager and requested a permanent residence. I had to surrender the usual forms of I.D. and gave my thumbprint and retinal scan and I was forced to stand for a brief search of my person and belongings for weapons since I was a high-ranking Cardassian official—even if I had walked away from it all. The entire process took nearly a half an hour but eventually, I was given my quarters assignment, a list of things that might land me on the naughty-list if I disobeyed them and a stern reminder that I was a <em>guest</em>. Then my tan garbed Bajoran friend waved me off as if he had better things to.</p>
<p>‘Welcome home,’ I thought to myself with a rueful sigh as I headed to the habitat ring to find where I was going to live.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Garak</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter 2: Garak</strong>
</p><p>By evening, I was comfortably situated in my new residence and very impressed with the ambiance of my quarters. It boasted four rooms—a spacious living area with a massive vid screen at its heart, kitchenette (I could cook if I wanted to!), a couch just big enough for two (which might come in handy) a plush living room chair, a small table to eat at with two stools, a study complete with a computer, and a spacious bedroom with a large (Cardassian) bed that had an impressive view of the stars through a colossal window. The hygiene room was well-equipped and was accessible both from the main sitting area and the bedroom.</p><p>After a quick sonic shower, I made my way into my sitting room and turned on the vid screen. I was able to do many of the same things with the screen that I could with the computer, which was an advanced Federation model, and I made a cursory check of the station layout, which included the doctor’s location, the Promenade and my old shop. Unfortunately, it was no longer available, so I looked for a similar space and found one not far from my original location. I decided to see what—or whom—was in my old space and pay them a visit.</p><p>After paying my deposit on the new space and ordering everything I needed for my official re-opening, I left my room and headed for the promenade, which was still mostly the same. While the lights were too bright and the air too cool for my delicate Cardassian senses, I had to admit the place was lively and less subdued than I had ever seen it.</p><p>As I explored my ‘new’ surroundings, I avoided Quark’s—he was still running the bar and he would have recognized me instantly—and I carefully picked my way through the shops and stalls until I found the place I was looking for. Ahh, there’s my old shop and it was, what, a <em>tailor’s</em> shop? Remarkable! And how boring, I decided as I looked at the items hanging from the racks. Where was the color? The distinctive lines? Where was the <em>quality</em>? And there wasn’t a thing that a Cardassian could—or would—wear. The sight of it all was frankly disturbing. Besides which, the work was drab, dull, and just not well done at all.</p><p>A young bajoran woman walked around the racks and gave me her best fake smile, her hands folded before her bland brown skirt. “Hello? How can I help you, sir?” she asked me in that tone of voice that suggested she would rather <em>not</em> help me.</p><p>My eyes widened and I smiled my most disarming grin at her, which caused her to visibly recoil. This reaction only caused my grin to broaden further with satisfaction. “Forgive me, my dear, but do you possibly have any Cardassian clothing or, perhaps, something with color in it?” I asked through my cheerful façade.</p><p>The woman blanched and backed away from me. “I—no. I don’t make clothes for your kind here.”</p><p>“My—<em>kind</em>?” I pressed, my smile remaining in place though my eyes bore none of it.</p><p>“Cardassians. We may be at peace, but your kind almost destroyed us all,” she explained as she kept her distance from me.</p><p>“While you’re not wrong, my dear, I can say with certainty that Cardassia has changed under the leadership of a brilliant and rather fetching civil servant and former exile. Our people will no longer be subject to Dominion rule—or anyone’s rule for that matter—ever again. So, if you refuse to serve <em>my kind </em>then where does <em>my kind</em> go for tailoring?”</p><p>“The replicators? Your home-world? Who cares?” she said to me as she shrank back against the wall as if I had suddenly turned into a monster from her nightmares. Ah, the effect of my most disturbing smile; it was among my greatest weapons.</p><p>“I see. So, you won’t mind if I open a tailor’s shop a short distance from your own?” I asked.</p><p>“For your kind?” she demanded warily.</p><p>I grinned at her and shook my head. “No, my dear; unlike <em>you</em>, I do not discriminate against my customers, potential or otherwise. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a date with my new shop.” As I reached the door, I stopped and turned back to her, adding, “You might want to start adding some creative patterns and colors to your designs because <em>my</em> wares will most certainly be less drab, I can assure you.”</p><p>With that out of the way, I headed for the medical office and peeked in, doing my best to seem insignificant and blend in with the area surrounding me. The young woman at the reception desk didn’t notice me right away though she was aware that someone was lurking nearby, even if she couldn’t see me. Ah, Cardassians, I smiled. My people seldom failed my attempts at blending in with my surroundings.</p><p>“Good evening, madam,” I said with sincere cheerfulness. “Is the good doctor in?” I asked, my hands folded in front of my blue doublet.</p><p>“He is, sir. Would you like to see him?”</p><p>“Ah, no. Not now but later, perhaps. Could you do me a favor?” I asked as I leaned in close with a conspiratorial grin.</p><p>“Maybe. What can I do for you?” she asked, a smile teasing the corners of her mouth. This one was a good-natured sort, I realized to my delight.</p><p>“Tell him to go to his usual table at the Replimat—the one he used to eat lunch at every day—at thirteen-hundred hours tomorrow. Tell him nothing more than that he must go there and wait,” I explained.</p><p>“May I give him—wait, are you--? Castellon Gar--!” she started to exclaim as she jumped up from her seat. ‘Well, damn. So much for blending in, I thought.’</p><p>“Shush, shush!” I said as I tried to calm her excitement. “If you watch the reports coming out of Cardassia, you will find that the old Castellon is no longer in place and a new one was voted in. Please, dear, do not give him <em>any</em> information about me—it’s a surprise. He hasn’t seen me in ages, and I want him suitably stunned by my sudden arrival. We’re very old friends; he’ll understand.”</p><p>Eagerly, she nodded and waved me close. “He mentions you all the time, Mister Garak, did you know that?”</p><p>I observed her with wide eyes and pursed lips, a bit taken aback as I had not expected that my dear Doctor Bashir had missed me all that much, though we had maintained written contact. It was a very nice surprise and I confess to feeling quite warm and fuzzy inside at the thought. “No, I did not, but thank you,” I replied sincerely. The doctor in question called out for his assistant—the Cardassian receptionist with whom I spoke—and I leaned close, reminding her, “Thirteen-hundred hours tomorrow, are we clear?” I asked.</p><p>“Understood, Mister Garak,” she smiled.</p><p>As I left, I turned back to her and said, “Garak; just plain Garak, if you please.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Bashir</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ashei Macrost is not yet a licensed doctor though she's very close and working on it along with earning important OJT from Julian on the station. She was introduced in the previous chapter but she shines from here on out. As an author, it's always a delight to watch your original background characters become their own people by the end of a story, which she does.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter 3: Bashir</strong>
</p>
<p>“Computer, display cardiac readings for Lieutenant Jacob Moreau. Now, zoom in on the image of the left ventricle. Perfect. Hold… Not as bad as I suspected. Place a note in his record that he will need a minor surgical correction to eliminate a potential murmur prior to passing him for his yearly physical.”</p>
<p>“Note has been added to his record,” the computer chimed back to me.</p>
<p>“Computer, notify Lieutenant Moreau to come see me at his earliest convenience for the procedure.” I slumped back in my chair with an exhausted sigh. I only had forty-eight out of more than a five hundred Starfleet personnel to examine and log into the database for yearly physicals. Of that massive number, a surprising few had actually failed their physicals, and all were easily corrected through diet, exercise or some minor treatment. Though, I will note that approximately twenty of the women were pregnant, some of them having been completely unaware of the fetus. It amazes me that even today we find ourselves dealing with “accidental” pregnancies. By now, you would think that the carefully administered chemical compounds that prevent pregnancy (available upon request) would be widely used.</p>
<p>“Doctor? Do you have a moment?” My assistant, Ashei Macrost, a Cardassian medical student who was showing great promise as both a surgeon and a diagnostician, entered my office with a smile that lit up her face. She seemed especially cheerful at the moment, which made me raise an eyebrow because she was usually polite, but serious about almost everything.</p>
<p>“What’s up, Ash?” I asked as she entered. We were relaxed around each other, more so than I was with most of my staff, including the serious, yet distant, team of doctors under my command. While they were excellent physicians, the three Vulcans under me found my presence distinctly insulting in part due to my genetic enhancements combined with my always cheerful personality. When I explained to them that working as a doctor for Starfleet here at Deep Space Nine meant they worked under me by default, they turned their noses up in the air and sniffed as though I had offended them. They did their jobs well enough, but their evaluations suffered for their lack of bedside manner.</p>
<p>Ash came around and appraised me with a critical, clinical eye and frowned. “When was your last vacation, Julian?” she asked.</p>
<p>I looked up at her from my relaxed position in my chair and considered her question as I scratched my cheek. Had it been five years? That was the last time I had visited Garak at his home on Cardassia Prime. It technically had been a vacation, but I remember being rather uncomfortable the whole time and not because of the Cardassian heat. Garak had been unusually distant around me but not due to work, either. We had enjoyed the usual pastimes such as arguing about books and poetry and discussing interplanetary cuisine, which he had become fascinated with. But the tension between us could have been snipped with dull toenail clippers, it was so bad.</p>
<p>“Doctor?” she said again as my mind drifted back to Garak and how he was doing. I really needed to visit him again and see if his mood had improved.</p>
<p>“Doctor!”</p>
<p>“Wh-whaaat!” I whined as I looked up at her.</p>
<p>“You need a day off,” she informed me, her arms crossed.</p>
<p>“I don’t need a day off,” I replied firmly as I moved closer to my computer screen.</p>
<p>Ashei leaned forward and pushed a button under the monitor, causing it to go black and returned to her resolute pose, her arms crossed and a stern frown on her face. “Fine; you’re getting a week off.”</p>
<p>“I’m not taking off a week in the middle of crew physicals,” I reminded her as I attempted to reach across my desk to turn the screen back on.</p>
<p>“Computer: Please save Doctor Bashir’s work and shut down,” she ordered. A moment later, the computer acknowledged her command and turned itself off. This set me to sputtering and pointing at the console while simultaneously mentally praising her for taking measures that I would have employed myself were I in her shoes. Still, I had a lot of work to complete and she had just completely derailed everything I was working on, however tedious it was.</p>
<p>“You are hereby relieved of command, Doctor, until further notice. I’ll have Doctor Sabbat sign off on it in the morning. You need a break,” she repeated, arms crossed and her strong, Cardassian shoulders set.</p>
<p>Her voice softened as she gazed down at me, a gleeful, if restrained, smile on her attractive face as she said, “So, you had a visitor today.”</p>
<p>“Who?” I asked as I removed my face from my hands.</p>
<p>“I can’t tell you,” she smirked down at me, her arms crossed. “But he did leave a message.”</p>
<p>I squinted up at her and rose from my chair, more than a bit curious now. “What message did he leave?” I asked with raised eyebrows. “Was it Elim Garak?” I asked her, assuming she knew what he looked like since he was her leader. But what Garak would be doing on the station was beyond me now that he was Castellon. Perhaps it was wishful thinking? I couldn’t deny that I missed him dearly.</p>
<p>Smug, she turned around and found a seat at another computer as she said, “I told you I can’t tell you who it was, but he did tell me to tell you to meet him at your usual table, the one you always sat at for lunch. Enjoy the week off, Doctor; your team and I will finish crew physicals and log the results. Your clinic is in good hands,” she smiled. “Now, shoo! I have work to do!”</p>
<p>I laughed and mock saluted her, despite the young medical student not being a member of the military, Starfleet or even a full doctor yet. This was her equivalent of a residency and she had specifically requested to learn under me because she had heard that I was the best. It seemed that my reputation preceded me, even on Cradassia. While I couldn’t fault her desire to work with me, I felt her praise was just a bit more than I felt I deserved.</p>
<p>As I left, I couldn’t help ruminating over the possible number of people it could have been who had come to see me. I supposed it could have been O’Brian, who was teaching young officers engineering for Starfleet back on Earth. But Miles and I stayed in constant contact, so there wouldn’t have been a reason for all the secrecy. Naturally, my mind dragged me back to Garak.</p>
<p>It <em>had</em> to be him.</p>
<p>We hadn’t left on the best of terms and our attempts at bridging our friendship had failed because of the awkward, bitter silence of things left unsaid between us. But there was no doubt that the prospect of him being here caused a lump of intense emotion to expand within me along with a giddiness I felt spread to my toes, among other places.</p>
<p>God, I missed that grinning, lying bastard.</p>
<p>What if it was him? The secrecy was certainly his modus operandi as was the reference to our old table, which had changed during the station facelift several years ago. If it <em>were</em> him, what would I say? Would we even be able to talk? The last time I saw him, he was so closed off I could barely stand to be around him. I resolved that if it <em>was</em> him, I was going force him to talk if it meant using his own Obsidian Order methods against him. He was still my friend and I loved him; I couldn’t let this distance between us go on any longer.</p>
<p>With that thought in my mind, headed to the Replimat and thought, for a moment, that I saw a man who looked like Garak seated at a table. When I looked back, he was gone. I realized that my genetically enhanced brain was indeed fried and rubbed my aching temple as I stepped forward to get my food. Ash was right; I was desperate for time off.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Garak</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter 4: Garak</strong>
</p>
<p>I sat at a table in the Replimat, my eyes on everyone and everything around me. While I was no longer Castellon, the possibility of having a dagger in my back was still there. Additionally, I had to be observant in case Julian walked by, despite it being late for his dinner. Still, I had to be careful.</p>
<p>Sure enough, the good doctor strolled on by my table. I was in the shadow of a stanchion with my back against the wall. Despite my hidden position, Bashir stopped, looking handsome as ever, and stared right at me as I melted into the shadows, willing the void to consume me so that I would disappear as if cloaked. He scratched his head and seemed utterly mystified as he looked back at my table and then around the room. His lean, wiry body tensed in its three-piece Starfleet uniform as he made his way up to replicator to order his food. In the time it took him to get his dinner and head back, I was gone. He sat down in the seat I had only moments ago been occupying and doubtless found the cushion warm and a certain, familiar scent hanging in the air.</p>
<p>It was all I was willing to give him—for now.</p>
<p>My ability to control my resolve had nearly wavered as I watched him. He had aged the past years with remarkable grace, his black hair still as dark as ever and the laugh lines, if deeper, now touched his eyes. He was still a beautiful human being if I was any judge. I hoped that beauty still touched his heart where I was concerned; I had a lot to apologize for and everything was going to come out soon. No more lies; no more deception.</p>
<p>The possibility of being honest for once nearly made me laugh out loud as I bought a few items from a food vendor to take back to my room. I decided I must have been getting old. I entered the lift and said, “Habitat Ring, section C, level twenty-three.” Beside me, a Starfleet officer in medical greens gazed across the lift at me and—smiled.</p>
<p>“Hallo, <em>Garak</em>.”</p>
<p>“My dear <em>Doctor</em>!” I exclaimed, completely beside myself as I looked at Julian with wide-eyed amazement. How had he done that? “You’re looking svelte these days. How are you?”</p>
<p>“Doggy bag,” he replied to my unasked question as he held up a bag containing his food. “I <em>thought</em> that was you! What in the world are you doing here?”</p>
<p>“So much for surprising you,” I complained as we exited the lift.</p>
<p>“Oh, I’m surprised,” he laughed. “We can talk in our quarters or we can talk someplace less private, like the upper level of the Promenade. The choice is yours.”</p>
<p>“And we <em>do</em> need to talk, my friend,” I said, my eyes darting away from his as if seeking an escape route. I was fine until Dr. Bashir usurped my plan, which meant I was no longer in control of this meeting, Julian was. “How did you know?” I asked.</p>
<p>“I saw you and then you were gone. Then there was the cryptic request left with my assistant and then you left a final clue at the table: your unique scent. I would know it anywhere. I assumed you would head to the lift so I reached it first and made myself inconspicuous until you made the mistake of smiling at me,” he explained with his arms crossed; he wasn’t smiling. “Shouldn’t you be on Cardassia?” he asked as we returned to the lift. Dinner would have to wait.</p>
<p>“Promenade, second floor,” I instructed the computer and we traveled in silence to the top. When we arrived at the mostly vacant second floor of the Promenade, we made our way to a quiet table near a window that once looked out onto the worm hole, which was long gone. Now the view only contained a vast, infinite field of stars and the occasional ship or shuttle.</p>
<p>“I asked you a question,” Julian reminded me as we sat down across from one another, our hands near the center, fingers reaching out to one another like roots seeking water. There goes that same old awkward silence between us, I thought bitterly. Why was I even here? Would it even be worth it? What would I do if he didn’t share my feelings? I had gone over the eventuality continuously in my mind over the last several days, even before I resolved to seek him out and concluded that I <em>had</em> to do this—after all, you don’t often get second chances to make things right with people.</p>
<p>His fingers touched mine and for a moment I felt my back stiffen until they entwined and locked, his brown eyes holding my blue ones intently, gently beseeching me to talk. In that moment, I had no doubts about where I belonged, even if my confession might fall on deaf ears. “I’m here because I needed to see <em>you</em>,” I said.</p>
<p>Julian held fast to my hands, which were both now in his comforting grip. I held on to him as if my life depended on it. Perhaps it did.</p>
<p>“I’m glad,” he said in a soft voice with that incredible smile. If it was possible, I felt my heart lurch with more feeling than I had had for him before I came here. “Are you still Castellon?” he asked.</p>
<p>I met his smiling, kind gaze and said, “Well, an election happened, and I was elected by my people to bring change to Cardassia. It turns out that your pathetic idealism rubbed off on me and now Cardassia is a thriving, if somewhat pitiful, democratic republic. The military is nipping at the heels, of course, but Starfleet and the Federation have been a great help with organizing things and keeping the military from regaining its previous level of power. Of course, we won’t be able to rely on your people indefinitely, so we’re restructuring and rebuilding the system planet by planet to eventually become independent.”</p>
<p>“I know that, Garak, but that doesn’t explain why you’re here and not at the head of your fledgling republic,” Julian reminded me in his soft voice.</p>
<p>“I was getting there,” I said more harshly than I intended. “I apologize for that. <em>Any</em>way, as you know, in democracies elections happen and leaders are elected or dismissed at the whim of the people. Sometimes, leaders are dismissed at their own whim—and that is why I am here, my dear doctor.” My hands squeezed his firmly. “I’m here because I chose to hand off my leadership to my second in command, who is young and, if anything, is even more of an idealist than even you are. He was elected in a landslide vote and is now the youngest world leader in Cardassian history. He has dreams of making Cardassia a member of the Federation and already, hundreds, if not thousands of my people, are lining up to join Starfleet Academy.” I looked down at our intertwined digits, dreading his next question.</p>
<p>He cleared his throat, an action which left his voice momentarily husky and distractingly sexy, and said, “Garak, you stated you came here for me; why? What do you want from me?”</p>
<p>I met his eyes and locked on. I didn’t know how to say it or even what to say. It was going to come out eventually but then I heard the same nagging question: ‘What if he rejects me?’ I didn’t think he would, but I had been rejected too many times in my life by too many people whom I had loved. I was terrified of it happening again. I felt numb and my throat constricted, leaving me breathless in a moment of panic. I desperately wanted to flee.</p>
<p>I broke the embrace of our hands and rose from the table to stand at the window a few steps away. Walls made from my own fears were closing in, surrounding me, and threatening to bury me and destroy months of planning and my own firm resolve. Tears slid down my face as I felt Julian touch my shoulder. “Garak…” he implored. “<em>Talk</em> to me.”</p>
<p>I closed my eyes and whispered, “I’m…in <em>love</em> with you,” I breathed as a weight made of time and fear lifted off my shoulders and melted away. To my surprise, Julian’s arms slid around my body, holding me against him and I began to softly weep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Bashir</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter 5: Bashir</strong>
</p>
<p>“I’m…in <em>love</em> with you.” Had I really heard those words? Had he actually said what I thought he said? I moved closer to him, unsure of what to say or do but knowing that I needed to hold him because of how much it had taken out of him to make this confession. I perched my chin on his shoulder near the slope of his hard neck ridge, his spicy, floral scent wafting to my nose and filling my senses. I closed my eyes and held him, feeling him relax against me, his hands moving to hold my arms across his chest. I loved him, too, I realized as we stood together before the great, oval window and gazed out into the rich tapestry of space.</p>
<p>I nuzzled his ear from behind, his incredibly soft, fine black hair against my cheek. “Is that all? No pressure on me to respond in kind, is there?” I teased.</p>
<p>“I only wanted you to know why I’ve been difficult,” he said stiffly, though a smile was in his voice.</p>
<p>“It does explain our last meeting. So, wait, that means you’ve been in love with me for—”</p>
<p>He interrupted, “Longer than I want to admit,” he grumbled, taking my hand, and pressing it to his lips. “There were—distractions—that admittedly made my desire for you bearable but then when…when those <em>distractions</em> died, I was left with the unbearable reality of my feelings for you. I returned to Cardassia in part because I knew it wouldn’t, couldn’t work between us then. Now, my young doctor, we are both older and wiser—or one hopes—and I am still struggling with my feelings. I will never be able to get over them unless I confront them—and you. But how you respond is your choice; you’re under no obligation. I am, at last, at peace with myself regardless of your reply.”</p>
<p>The “distractions” he spoke of were full of painful memories, including the death of Ziyal, with whom he had been in love. The man who killed her, if I recall correctly, eventually set the stage for Cardassia’s freedom from the Dominion, earning him Garak’s friendship—and then his honor when Damar died a hero. I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been for him.</p>
<p>As I was about to confess my own feelings, ignored for far too long and buried by distractions of my own, an attractive young Bajoran security officer approached us with a disapproving frown on her face. “Is there a problem, deputy?” I asked from Garak’s shoulder where it still rested. My old friend was now holding my hand in his and I could sense the amused smirk on his face as well as the palpable feeling of annoyance as the woman barged in on our private moment.</p>
<p>“Doctor Bashir, good evening,” she said as she smiled at me and frowned at Garak. “You’re loitering on the Promenade, which as you know, is against station rules.”</p>
<p>“That’s funny,” I said without humor in my voice, “Back when we were dating and ‘loitered’ here ourselves, it was perfectly all right. But now that I’ve moved on, it’s suddenly bad?”</p>
<p>I saw her suck in a breath and her back stiffened as she frowned at me. “You’re with one of the ‘spoon-faces’ and it’s just… It’s still loitering.”</p>
<p>“Ahhh,” Garak said with a broad grin. “I see that xenophobia isn’t relegated to just my <em>own</em> people—good to know. That’s two Bajorans I’ve encountered so far today who hate my people. Nice to see that as much as things change, so much remains the same. And if you’re going to insult me, it’s ‘spoon-<em>head</em>’ not ‘spoon-<em>face</em>.’ You really should get your insults figured out, my dear. But I don’t mean to be the bearer of bad news as my people are now a democratic society and they’re coming here to the station in droves to become a legitimate part of the Alpha Quadrant’s recognized denizens. Why, some are even planning to join Starfleet—wouldn’t that be wonderful! And I have no doubt that there are any number of my people who are vying for <em>your</em> position as we speak, my dear.”</p>
<p>Garak was beaming at the look of horror on her face and I was fighting to keep the laughter swelling in my chest from flooding out. I added, “You see, it was this right here, your unfailing hatred of all Cardassians that caused our brief time together to end prematurely. Considering that I have many Cardassian friends, including my assistant, that negativity was simply not going to work. Thankfully it didn’t as I have clearly moved on with one—and happier for it.”</p>
<p>She stiffened, barely able to control her anger. “Please leave the Promenade if you’re only going to stand around,” she repeated with a sharp edge to her voice. While I lacked Garak’s gift with words and turn of phrase, what I had said had struck a nerve, which caused her to turn around on one foot and walk away.</p>
<p>At the same time, Garak and I suddenly burst out laughing, holding on to one another as we struggled to stand. Our eyes met and our faces drew near. I licked my lips and murmured, “You know that I have absolutely <em>no</em> experience with men, romantically, I mean,” I said. “I have never even kissed one.” Our noses touched and Garak’s fingertips brushed my cheek and ran down my face in a slow, gentle caress.</p>
<p>“Lucky for you, I have extensive experience with people of <em>all</em> genders,” he murmured as our lips drew nearer. “I could…<em>teach</em> you a few things if you like,” he said against my mouth.</p>
<p>“I think I would like that,” I replied softly as I stole a quick, teasing nip from his lower lip.</p>
<p>His mouth opened to mine and the kiss we shared was light; a mere fluttering of our lips against one another like a butterfly’s wings beating against the petals of an open flower. Garak’s scent was all around me, wafting through me and filling my senses, leaving me hot and breathless with desire. Our bodies responded to the intensifying need growing between us and I shivered, both terrified and aroused at the direction my life was taking me.</p>
<p>When our mouths parted, we held each other for several minutes as we stood framed by the enormous viewing port beside us. “You told her you’ve moved on… With <em>me</em>…” he observed in a small, awestruck voice as if he couldn’t believe I had said it as I reclined my head against his.</p>
<p>“I believe those were the words I used, yes. While I don’t know the extent of my feelings for you, I do know that it runs deep, and it runs long into my past. The strange thing is that I didn’t realize what it was until you told me you were in love with me. It was like finding buried treasure that was under my nose all along.”</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Garak</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter 6: Garak</strong>
</p>
<p>I smiled then moved to stand in front of the doctor and took his hands in mine. “No more lies, Julian. Just the truth: I came here because I needed to <em>feel</em> again—become more than an icon for my people. And you know that I <em>sincerely loathe</em> politics. While I didn’t lack for work to do, I did have more time on my hands to dwell on what I was missing in my life. One of the things I gave up when I left the station were my lunches and my long-winded conversations with you, however often we disagreed. It reminded me how of alone I was. And how much I really <em>am</em> in love with you, which means you are right now my single greatest vulnerability. But I cannot allow that fear of losing you—as I lost Ziyal—<em>destroy</em> the possibility of a future with you if there even is a future with you. But I would be a fool not to try.”</p>
<p>I watched the good doctor stifle a yawn as we slowly made our way back to the lift. We were both exhausted, it seemed, and there would be no more pleasure in the dark for either of us this evening. I slid my arm around him in the turbo lift as he said, “Habitat Ring, section C, level 70.” which was joined by a much longer, deeper yawn so it sounded more like, “Habitahhhawwwnng.” Incredibly, the computer fully understood the garbled nonsense and deposited us on the correct floor, in the correct section, which was for Starfleet personnel. My stop was still a few decks up, but I had time to linger until we parted company.</p>
<p>As we stepped out into the corridor, I looked down the passageway toward his quarters and smiled back at him. “You should…” I started to say but Julian grabbed me, pinned me against the wall and kissed me with a need I enthusiastically returned. I could finally understand why my old friend was so popular with the ladies.</p>
<p>My face flushed from the unexpected tangle of tongues we enjoyed, I stroked Bashir’s cheek with the back of my hand and kissed him one last time. “On that note, I will see you tomorrow,” I said cheerfully.</p>
<p>Grinning as he wiped his lips with his hand, Julian asked, “What time? I’ve been relieved of duty for the remainder of the week because my assistant thinks I’m overworked—”</p>
<p>“—You <em>are</em> overworked,” I interjected.</p>
<p>“—and thinks I need a few days off to recuperate my cheerful demeanor.”</p>
<p>“Ahh, excellent, my dear! So, it is settled: you will assist me in my nw shop for the next few days as we reconnect and see if we can’t fix what was broken almost fifteen years ago,” I told him as I plucked at his uniform, all while thinking to myself that Starfleet needed better designers if they were going to just replicate uniforms. Really, those seams were pathetic. “Come to my quarters at oh-eight-hundred hours and I will go over what needs to be done over breakfast.”</p>
<p>“Garak, I don’t understand; I thought we got over what happened all those years ago? Aren’t we, I don’t know what this is, but aren’t we ‘dating’?” he asked me as I plucked a rogue string from his jacket. He really needed me to repair this before it fell apart, not that I minded, but it wouldn’t do if he were wearing it at work.</p>
<p>As I fussed over his uniform, I explained, “Just because you <em>fly</em> <em>over</em> the bridge, it doesn’t mean you actually <em>repair</em> the bridge—that takes time, patience, materials and sheer determination. You must first find the weaknesses and <em>then</em> make the bridge stronger. Once we do that, then we will have fixed what was broken and we can move forward. I’ve been rebuilding a lot of bridges on Cardassia Prime these past few years so you might say I have become a bit of an expert at it.” I was rather proud of myself for that metaphor and smiled at him with my hands on his shoulders. “As far as <em>dating</em> goes… I don’t see why we can’t have a bit of fun while we fix things, but it will require a <em>lot</em> of talking, which you and I both know we can do <em>very</em> well. Oh, and bring me your uniform later and I’ll fix it for you; these seams are horrible.” You could always tell good tailoring by looking at the seams on an article of clothing. These uniforms had clearly been replicated and not by the best machines.</p>
<p>“So, I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” he murmured as he leaned in close to me. I swallowed and smiled, the weight of my physical interest in him weighing down on me and threatening my ability to control myself. He really was extraordinarily handsome.</p>
<p>“Oh-eight-hundred hours,” I reminded him as I stole a quick kiss and hurried back into the turbolift lest my body betray me. It was not going to be easy around him, I realized as the doors opened and I stepped out into the dim, deserted hallway. Eventually, I came to my room and tapped the entry code for it. Moments later, I was inside and had removed by coat and vest before sagging against the wall with most idiotic grin of my life on my face. Eventually, it wouldn’t matter, I decided, still grinning like a fool as I walked into the bedroom, turned down the sheets and removed the rest of my clothes.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Bashir</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter 7: Bashir</strong>
</p>
<p>I was awake, shaved and showered by oh-seven-hundred hours with a growing feeling of excitement. Garak was determined to take our relationship at an easy, slow pace, which wasn’t how I usually got involved with people, but I deferred to his wisdom in this—for now. Rushing after so many years apart, particularly when things had been so awkward would have doomed us from the beginning. Restraint had never been my forte but for Garak, it had defined much of his life.</p>
<p>As I turned the corner to head to the civilian habitation wing, I nearly ran into Dax at full stride and grabbed her shoulders to keep from knocking her down. Ezri laughed as I held her and she looked up at me with dancing eyes. “Doctor! You’re in a hurry—and in civilian clothes?” she asked. I looked down at my loose, pale blue shirt, which buttoned down the front, and dark blue trousers, cheeks flushed.</p>
<p>“I have been temporarily reassigned by my staff to vacation status so, I, uh, have bland innocuous things to do today,” I explained with an awkward smile. Ezri and I had once been together, a relationship that had lasted a few months but eventually fizzled out. We remained very good friends, however, and while I trusted her, admitting what I was doing was difficult.</p>
<p>“And you were just taking a stroll down the civilian wing of the habitation ring for the fun of it?” she asked knowingly. Then she tried to appear innocent as she glanced down the hall. “You might already know this, but Elim Garak is here. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” she said slyly. Ezri knew I had feelings for Garak and she knew that, despite the distance between us, he and I had remained close even after all these years.</p>
<p>“I <em>might</em>,” I demurred at length.</p>
<p>“And naturally you’re going to see him?” she asked with a grin.</p>
<p>There was nothing I could say and no way to hide the color in my cheeks as I nodded slowly. “I care for him, Ezri. It took me long enough to figure it out… I think I need to see where it goes, don’t you?”</p>
<p>She hugged me tightly and laid her cheek against my chest, saying, “Yes, I think you do. As station counselor, I think your team made the right decision, Julian. And spending time with Garak is exactly what you need. How is he?” she asked as she pulled away.</p>
<p>“He’s well, I think, if a bit lonely,” I replied as we started down the habitation together ring to his quarters. “He is no longer Castellan, however; he gave it up to return here, though I still don’t fully grasp why.”</p>
<p>“I heard the man who replaced him is very popular,” she told me as we stood in front of Garak’s door.</p>
<p>“He told me as much—this is my stop. By the way; what are <em>you</em> doing in this section?” I asked as she grinned up at me.</p>
<p>“I had breakfast with a friend of my own this morning. Don’t pry. Anyway, I won’t keep you. Say, do you think he’ll mind if I we all get together for lunch? I would love to see him again,” she said cheerfully before she started back down the hall, waving as she walked away. “Enjoy your vacation!”</p>
<p>As I waved at her, Garak opened his door, glanced down the hallway at Dax’s retreating back and then dragged me in his room. “You are two minutes late, Doctor,” he admonished as he looked me over with a critical eye. “While there is such a thing as being fashionably late, breakfast waits for no one. You look good out of uniform,” he observed with that same old maddening grin of his. “Did you sleep well?”</p>
<p>“Well enough, I suppose. Sleep was frankly elusive last night because you’re back and there’s so many things I wanted to talk to you about,” I said as I followed him into the room.</p>
<p>“I see,” he said as he walked into the little kitchen he had set up. “You’re right; we have a great deal of catching up to do. If there’s one thing you and I were always good at, it was our gift for engaging conversation,” he said. “Was that Ezri Dax you were talking to out there?”</p>
<p>“It was; she wants to have lunch with us if you don’t mind.”</p>
<p>He nodded, smiling as he planted a firm kiss on my cheek. I tried to grab him for another, longer one on the mouth but he dodged my advances with remarkable grace. “Look around the apartment while I cook breakfast,” he said, waving me off with a spatula.</p>
<p>As I explored, I noted the advancements made during the upgrade to the station a few years ago. The huge vid screen on the wall opposite the line of windows was one nice upgrade the civilian habitation wing rooms had received and the large, Cardassian bed was big enough for three people. He had dimmed the lights and raised the temperature, but I found it reasonable and not too hot at all. After finishing my self-guided tour, I asked him what he was making. “Is it another one of your interplanetary experiments?” I joked as I picked up his sewing kit and looked it over.</p>
<p>“Ah, you know me all too well. I am making something from Earth called an ‘om-let’. It has Vulcan spices, a Cardassian sauce, American cheese—"</p>
<p>“<em>’American cheese</em>’?” I blurted. “That isn’t even <em>food</em>! It’s emulsified oil, flavoring and color. And it hasn’t changed in over three-hundred years!”</p>
<p>“I know. And it tastes incredible,” he said as he grinned back at me while he cooked, adding, “Our dish also has onions and other vegetables with eggs I bought from the Bajoran market on the Promenade. Trust me, Doctor, this dish will be quite delicious, I assure you.”</p>
<p>“You and your hobbies, Garak… Is there meat in it?” I asked as I sat down at the small dining table near the kitchenette.</p>
<p>“I made the attempt at procuring meat from the Klingon market, but it was still moving.”</p>
<p>“Ahh, wise. And you never know what kind of meat you’re going to get when you go to the Klingons. It actually smells decent, Garak. I’m impressed,” I said as he slid a plate in front of me. “You might have a future as a cook,” I joked as he sat across from me.</p>
<p>He waved his fork through the air and said, “Believe me, Doctor; I am much better as a tailor than a chef, I’m afraid, but I appreciate the compliment. Shall we?”</p>
<p>We began to eat what turned out to be a surprisingly excellent dish. We traded small talk even as we danced around more taxing subjects, which I found difficult to bear. Normally, Garak was fond very of conversation, as was I; it was one reason we got along so well. Why, then, all the boring small talk about the weather on Cardassia? Frustration setting in, I tried to coax something more interesting out of him, something familiar.</p>
<p>“Read any good books lately?” I asked around a mouthful of egg. I wasn’t about to inflate Garak’s ego by telling him his breakfast was good, not now anyway. The Vulcan seasoning was the perfect complement to the Cardassian sauce he’d used. And, admittedly, the cheese was a nice touch, even if it wasn’t really ‘cheese’. Or even food for that matter.</p>
<p>Garak drank a sip of water and put the dishes into the replicator for disposal before turning to sit back down at the table, an eager smile on his face. “I have, indeed! It’s called ‘Stars Beyond Reach.’ It’s an Enigma Tale but with a romantic twist. It’s Jacvara Groth, a Cardassian author with a knack for spinning a good mystery. I was most impressed with her writing style—and she doesn’t linger on scenes but rather, she deftly segues through them. Her characters are rich, colorful and completely different from the bland characters you claim our stories usually possess.”</p>
<p>“You’re planning to loan it to me, aren’t you?” I prompted, dabbing my face with my napkin.</p>
<p>“Of course, my dear Doctor! I wouldn’t dream of keeping such fine literature to myself. You’ll need it this week while you’re on vacation, after all,” Garak laughed, leaning back in his chair with a pleased expression on his face. He seemed happier these days, less negative than he had been in the past; I approved of this change in him. While it could have been my imagination, his smiles reached his eyes more than they used to. He rose from his chair and headed into the bedroom.</p>
<p>I followed him and leaned my shoulder against the door frame, a smile on my lips as he withdrew a data crystal from one of his bags. “I thought you were going to keep me busy this week,” I reminded him as I plucked the gold-hued rod from his fingers and pocketed it.</p>
<p>He tried to push past me on his way back into the living area and stopped for a moment as we both stood within the doorway, his pale blue eyes locked on mine. “I plan on it, oh, I do plan on it,” he said cheerfully. “But you may find time to read it when we aren’t together. You do have to shower sometimes,” he joked.</p>
<p>I leaned forward and bridged the space between us with a long, sultry kiss on his pursed lips. “I don’t think the shower is any safer,” I murmured.</p>
<p>“Oh, but I disagree, Doctor. Have you seen the size of the showers on this station? My villa, on the other hand, is an exception that you simply must experience to appreciate.”</p>
<p>“I guess I will,” I laughed with another oral caress before separating.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Garak</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter 8: Garak</strong>
</p>
<p>Julian, far from shrinking away from my advances, had embraced them and then upped the ante on our budding relationship by making himself completely irresistible to me. My original plan had been to take things slowly with him, to draw out my young doctor and feel our way through the possibilities—but my handsome friend was gleefully mangling my plans with the delight of a puppy discovering paper for the first time. It was both satisfying and maddening at the same time, especially since I was as sexually attracted to him as I had ever been and it was all I could do to restrain myself from taking him where he stood, his heavy-lidded eyes and wide smile destroying my defenses.</p>
<p>“Why, Garak, have I caught you off your guard and rendered you speechless?” Julian mocked me with a playful chuckle.</p>
<p>I slid my arms around him and planted a kiss to his soft lips before squirming away; he wasn’t getting me to break that easily, damn him. “We’ve work to do, my young friend, and I have no time for you to toy with me right now, much as I would like to play.”</p>
<p>Julian followed me around the apartment as I gathered a few items from my bags along with a data pad and handed them to him. “Have you rebuilt the Obsidian Order?” he asked from behind me. I stopped what I was doing, a chill running down my spine. Sometimes, the things that man knew about me were shocking. While I had let him into my confidence many more times than I had allowed anyone else in my life, it still startled me when he just figured things out on his own. It was as if my secrets had been written on my forehead and set in plain view for him to read as he saw fit. I found it quite disconcerting.</p>
<p>At length, I turned to him and said, “The Order is dead. While it has been replaced to some degree—since there will always be a need for secrets to be kept and discovered—I have no desire to head or even be involved in such an operation. The leader is chosen by the Castellon and is subject to greater scrutiny than ever before. Why do you ask?”</p>
<p>“Starfleet has decrypted several Cardassian messages lately that suggest that the Obsidian order, or something similar, is attempting to operate outside of Cardassian space. Several of these mentioned you by name, though I don’t know why, as I am not privy to the contents of classified documents. Kira told me to tell you to watch your back if we spoke. I started making plans to visit you but now, all of a sudden, I find you on the station with your maddening grin and mesmerizing blue eyes, telling me you love me rather than leading your people. Are you in trouble, Garak?”</p>
<p>“Decrypted messages mentioning me? Well, Castellon is a powerful position and people in power are always in danger from assassins, my young doctor. That said, by the time the Colonel had told you to watch my back, three attempts on my life had already been made, along with my decision not run in the new election—not for my safety, mind you, but because, as I said, I missed being alone.” I pursed my lips and sat down in a nearby chair, thankful that the station was furnished with all the basics. This wasn’t good at all, not if Starfleet was intercepting messages; it suggested purposeful sloppiness; they <em>wanted</em> to be discovered. In the arena of Intelligence and espionage, encoded messages that just <em>happen</em> to fall into enemy hands never <em>just</em> happen—they are handed over with a red bow as a warning. “The people targeting me are barely organized and they are <em>not</em> the Obsidian Order, oh no. No, I don’t know what they call themselves, but the fact that they’re hunting me off-world is telling—you’d best be on your guard as well.”</p>
<p>“You’re actually worried about this,” he said softly as he placed the items I had handed to him into a bag he found. I glanced up at him and nodded slowly; I was quite worried. “What do you plan to do?” he asked softly as he perched on the arm of my chair.</p>
<p>“I plan to begin my life again as a humble tailor—”</p>
<p>“You? Humble?” Julian snorted.</p>
<p>“—not so humble tailor, then—and fade into the background like I did during my exile, and I’m dragging you along with me as a second set of eyes.”</p>
<p>“Is that all?” he asked, slipping his arm around my shoulders for a hug. “I’ll ask security to keep an eye on you—”</p>
<p>I looked up at him and shook my head. “There is nothing the Bajoran or Starfleet security can do to protect me.”</p>
<p>“But I, a <em>doctor</em> with just enough combat training under my belt to keep myself from getting killed by accident, <em>can</em>?” he asked me incredulously. “You’ve gone mad, Garak, or more mad than I remember you being.”</p>
<p>I rose from my seat and drew Julian into my arms for a long, comfortable hug, basking in his proximity and drawing strength from his presence. I needed him right now, which I hated; I couldn’t stand the fact that I needed someone so much. “My dear, believe it or not, my enemies will not risk an incident with Starfleet to reach me, though they <em>might</em> target a lover. If that lover also happens to be a member of Starfleet, they <em>might</em> think twice. Or not. The problem, of course, is that I don’t have enough information. I don’t suppose that Kira would be tempted to relinquish these messages for the sake of my life?”</p>
<p>Bashir shook his head and grabbed another bag from the floor near the chair. “I tried. I have friends in Ops who might help me though; let me see what I can do. I might possibly be able to woo Kira since she does still consider me a friend. And I think she respects you for what you’ve done for your people. Garak, could these people targeting you have <em>been</em> part of the Order?”</p>
<p>“Most certainly, Doctor!” I said. “They aren’t stupid, and they appear skilled, if disorganized. Having a name for them would ease my concerns considerably. For now, I have a shop to open.” As we reached the door and stepped out, I leaned forward and kissed him in the hall. “For what it’s worth, I’m happy you’re with me.”</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Bashir</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter 9: Bashir</strong>
</p>
<p>We arrived on the Promenade just as business was picking up. Shops were opening and the scent of commerce mingled with the odor of raw capitalism wafted through the air along with the scent of flowers. For once, the sight of my finely dressed Cardassian friend in his gold-flecked purple doublet and dark pants stirred little notice from passerby as they hurried about their business. He appraised this change with wide, suspicious eyes. “It’s different since you were last here,” I observed softly.</p>
<p>“It’s strangely disconcerting,” he told me as we picked our way through the shoppers to his new store. “If anything, it’s brighter now. The colors are brighter anyway, and there appears to be more advanced technology than ever. It’s impressive to say the least. But still strange that I haven’t gotten a single nasty glare. Julian, did that woman just look at me and smile?”</p>
<p>“You suave fellow,” I teased, “The ladies are noticing you!”</p>
<p>Garak blushed under his grey eyebrow-ridges and pulled me along, intent on our destination. “I don’t understand the attention—they used to stare at me in revulsion, not interest. And you saw what happened the last time I loved a Bajoran.”</p>
<p>“She was half Cardassian and you’re a very attractive man, not to mention your character. Enjoy the attention,” I laughed as he opened the door and invited me in.</p>
<p>Over his shoulder, he asked, “Is that what <em>you</em> do?” I couldn’t tell if he was actually curious or being snide since the tone of voice he used could work for either. So, I played it diplomatically and shrugged.</p>
<p>“When a beautiful woman, or any woman for that matter, appreciates you from afar, you drink it in. Surely you’ve done this?” I asked as he started going through boxes; there had been multiple deliveries over night to his empty shop and they were everywhere.</p>
<p>“Does this apply to men as well?” he asked, clearly testing me.</p>
<p>“Of course! It worked when <em>you</em> did it,” I said with a wink.</p>
<p>“And here I thought my advances had not been noticed,” he said with chuckle, his hands withdrawing several long rods and tools. “Give me a hand with these, please?”</p>
<p>“Your advances were noticed, and I admit that I was intrigued but I was very, <em>very</em> interested in Jadzia at the time, not that she cared. But then our relationship settled into an easy friendship that I cherished more than the prospect of anything else. But when you left for Cardassia…My heart broke. I think a part of me went with you and I’ve been unable to maintain a decent relationship since. I tried to contact you, Garak, after my last visit. What happened?” I asked in a soft voice.</p>
<p>His back was to me as he started assembling the rack and then, after several moments, he sighed, lowering his head. “You were in my house, a guest, and as much as I wanted to, for fear of arousing suspicion, I couldn’t tell you how I felt so I bottled it up under a façade of polite friendship even though it was slowly killing me. As Castellon, I struggled to maintain a balance between affection and professionalism, and I had to be aware that I was being watched all…the…time,” he explained through clenched teeth, his hands gripping the bars in anger. Then, his voice softened again, barely above a whisper as he continued. “Even if you <em>had</em> reciprocated my feelings, it wasn’t as if we could act on them. And I have tried the secret romance route,” he said with a forlorn sigh and turned his head and pierced me with his blue eyes. “Secret romances never succeed, my dear Doctor, so I was forced to wait until I was no longer needed by my people to come find you. I’m free now,” he whispered softly, his words clogged with emotion and his eyes moist. He was an emotional man and while he could hide those emotions behind his smile, sometimes he didn’t bother trying.</p>
<p>I took the tools and the rods from him and stepped over and around several stacked crates to reach him. Soon, we were holding one another, and he was grinning against my shirt. “I wondered if that would work,” he said slyly.</p>
<p>“What? Your gut-wrenching story? Please, Garak, don’t tell me it wasn’t a lie…”</p>
<p>“Hm? Oh no, none of what I just said was a lie, though I might have been a touch melodramatic.” He pushed away from me and handed me one end of the rack, admonishing me for distracting him as he did so. I smacked him on the butt with one of the shorter rods and laughed even as he thumped me on the head with another, both of us trying not to lose ourselves in the hilarity of the moment. God, I had missed him.</p>
<p>Eventually, we had all the racks set up and the clothes organized, most of it in various stages of creation. I asked him why so many pieces out on the floor were unfinished and he explained to me that sometimes, all that is needed is an idea and from there, the idea can be refined and fleshed out until it suits the customer. Many of the unfinished items were merely “ideas” while the finished ones were primarily for those in a hurry.</p>
<p>At one point, I started putting what I thought were jackets on a rack, but Garak came running toward me and snatched them from my hands. “No, no, Julian, <em>these</em> are doublets! They do not get hung on the same rack as the jackets.”</p>
<p>“There’s a <em>difference</em>?” I demanded in my confusion.</p>
<p>“<em>Yes</em>, there’s a difference! If you cared at all about the finer points of tailoring, I would explain them to you, but you don’t, so it would be pointless to try.” Then he kissed me on the nose and turned around to hang up the <em>doublets</em> with the other <em>doublets</em>.</p>
<p>“You should at least tell me the difference so that I don’t make this mistake again,” I told him.</p>
<p>“You can learn the same way I did: through research,” he said sternly, though a ripple of amusement colored his words. He began to set up a mannequin as I finished going through the remaining boxes and crates, eventually finding one that lacked any wording on it. It was about the size of a shoebox, nondescript, tan-colored and very unremarkable to my casual inspection. Like I had with every other box in the room, I began to open it.</p>
<p>“What’s that?” Garak asked over my shoulder as I undid the closures on the top of the box.</p>
<p>“What does it look like?” I asked. “It’s a box, Garak, like every other box in this place.”</p>
<p>“That isn’t my box,” he said warily. With unexpected alarm in his voice, he suddenly  ordered me to drop it but by the time I did, it was too late: I had been shot in the neck with a long, slender syringe about the length of my middle finger. Immediately, I felt the effects of the poison spread throughout my body and heard Garak shouting my name as I dropped like a dead weight to the carpeted floor. As my eyes glazed over and everything went dark, Garak’s terrified face was the last thing I saw.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Garak</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Chapter 10: Garak</strong>
</p>
<p>I was on the floor beside him in an instant, frantically calling for help as Julian’s eyes rolled back up into his head and the color drained from his face, leaving him ashen-hued. I snatched the syringe from his neck and stared at it, recognizing it as an assassin’s tool, however crudely delivered, and to the wrong target. I then did something colossally stupid: I began to suck the poison out of Bashir’s neck and spat out as much of the foul-tasting stuff as I could. When my calls were ignored, my head becoming woozy from the poison I had accidentally ingested, I tapped his comm-badge and said, “Garak to Infirmary: I need immediate medical transport. Doctor Bashir has been poisoned.” And so have I, I thought as I flopped down on top of him.</p>
<p>When the familiar tingling sensation of molecular reorganization dissipated from my body, I looked up and felt myself being hauled from the doctor’s body, each of us carried to a hospital bed a few feet from one another. As they lifted me, the syringe fell from my hand to roll across the floor to the feet of the doctor on a duty, a Vulcan man by the name of Doctor Taruk. “Is this the poison?” he asked, carefully picking it up with his gloved hand.</p>
<p>“Y-yes,” I said weakly. “I need it back for-for analysis, if you don’t mind…”</p>
<p>“I’ll give it to security for their investigation after we analyze the substance,” he said, placing the syringe in a special holder on a nearby console. He looked back over his shoulder at me, a sharply-angled Vulcan eyebrow raised as he appraised my own weakness. By now, the nurses had stripped both of us bare and covered us with medical gowns and sheets up to our shoulders. “Are you suffering from the same poison?” he asked me.</p>
<p>“Y-yes. I tried to-to suck it out, as much as I could…”</p>
<p>A nurse who had attached several machines to Bashir; two on his chest, one on his forehead and one on his left wrist, looked back at me and smiled. “That courageous act might have saved his life,” she answered.</p>
<p>Doctor Taruk had said he was going to give it to Security, but with Odo gone, I no longer trusted Security as much as I would have had he been with us still. The face of the young deputy as she confronted Doctor Bashir and myself on the promenade came to me along with a sensation of certain dread. “Doctor…Taruk…I think it would be <em>unwise</em> to…allow station security to have…that syringe as at least one of the Bajoran deputies…<em>still</em> hates my people. I would prefer…to handle the testing of it myself if it’s all the same.”</p>
<p>The doctor opened his mouth to speak when suddenly, machines near Julian’s bed began a badly harmonized cacophony of beeping and blipping and long, low wails. Terrified, I lurched from my bed and dragged myself to Julian’s side, using his bed to haul myself up on my weakened, partially paralyzed legs. I took his hand in mine and started yelling at him, begging, pleading—demanding that he come back around as a nurse tried to peel me away from him, but I held fast, hitting the man in the face and otherwise making a general nuisance of myself to those who tried to drag me away from Bashir’s bedside.</p>
<p>I was screaming, kicking as I was hauled away and I know I broke at least two noses in the process, something that left a very satisfied taste in my mouth, even as I tasted the metallic sting of blood where I had cut my lip on my tooth. I was then strapped to the bed, restrained, confined, and breaking down as I once had when Julian was helping me recover from the wire in my brain. But this time, it was pure terror for me as the full force of my claustrophobia was unleashed. “Let me out! Let me out! Please, if you have any mercy in your miserable hearts, let me out of this damned thing! Julian! Julian, help me!!” I cried over and over.</p>
<p>The sounds from Bashir’s bed indicated that he had survived his crash and more, he had heard me crying out his name. Weakly, his rough voice carried across the space between us to my ears, “Gare-ack…” he said at length, his hand reaching out to me. I was sobbing hysterically by now and, though my arm was restrained, I met his gaze and reached out my hand to him as much as I could. “Help…me…” I whispered through my psychological and physiological agony.</p>
<p>To the people gathered around him, he whispered in a hoarse voice, “You need to remove his restraints immediately…because…he suffers from acute, severe…claustrophobia and you have triggered…an attack.” He was fighting to stay conscious and swallowed hard as someone prepared a hypospray, doubtless with enough Melorazine to render me complacent. “Did you hear me? He…can’t…stay like…that…!”</p>
<p>When the woman with the hypospray came around to my bed, I lurched hard enough that the bed jumped, and my shoulder dislodged the drug from her hand. “No! No! I don’t want that!” I yelled, blood frothing my lips. I clenched my teeth and squirmed under the tight confining straps and yelled again, filling the infirmary with my rage and fear.</p>
<p>Above my cries, I heard Julian yell, “Let… Him… Go! That… Is… An… Order!” Silence befell the medical bay and the doctors, nurses and various attendants stopped and stared at one another and finally looked at the doctor and myself on our beds in our poisoned states. Then, without another word or a glance, one of the doctors, the Cardassian woman with whom I’d spoken the day before, undid my restraints. Almost immediately, my chest expanded, and I could breathe again. I was shivering under the light blanket and I was too exhausted to do much more than lay back on the bed and turn my gaze to Julian. Our eyes met and he gave me a weak, encouraging smile.</p>
<p>“I love you,” he mouthed at me. Then added, “You’re going to be okay.”</p>
<p>I nodded and swallowed as I reached out my hand to him once again. He responded in kind and then fell back into a deep sleep. Soon, I joined him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Bashir</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter 11: Bashir</strong>
</p>
<p>I awoke to find Garak asleep in a chair beside my bed, his cheek against the mattress and his hand around my wrist. I felt like an Angarian whale had swallowed me whole and spat me out for being too boney. I could tell that I was running a high fever and my breathing was shallow; my limbs had that numb feeling you get when you pinch a nerve from sitting in a bad position for too long.</p>
<p>“Hey,” I croaked to him.</p>
<p>He stirred and smiled weakly at me, his fingers brushing back my hair as Ash, my assistant, smiled at us from the computer station where she was working to synthesize an antidote. “I let him out of his bed to stay with you on Doctor Taruk’s orders, which came down from Lt. Commander Dax herself. She said you needed each other, and I agreed, just as long as he behaves.”</p>
<p>“How many of my staff’s noses did you break?” I chided him affectionately.</p>
<p>Garak grunted, “Only five and I knocked out about six teeth,” he said with smug self-satisfaction. “How do you feel?” he asked me as I closed my eyes and swallowed.</p>
<p>“Water…” I croaked softly.</p>
<p>Garak responded immediately and fetched me a glass, his worried expression searching my face. “I feel like I’ve been poisoned,” I replied.</p>
<p>“Not just that,” Ash said as she came around with a datapad in her hand. “It’s a Cardassian poison, a powerful one, but because neither one of you got a full dose, I believe it’s treatable. We have just a few more tests to run on it to make a final determination, but I think we have it narrowed down to the correct family of poisons.”</p>
<p>Garak took the datapad from her hand and looked over her observations. He then added a few notes of his own and handed it back to her with as much of a smile as he could muster in his weakened state. “Don’t ask how I know, just… Trust me. These should narrow the options considerably,” he said.</p>
<p>She looked radiant as she thanked him. “You have no idea how much this will help! Thank you, Garak. I’ll start running these in the computer immediately,” she said as she returned to the console and began inputting the information Garak had given her.</p>
<p>“More Obsidian Order secrets?” I whispered with a chuckle.</p>
<p>Garak leaned in and replied with a noncommittal shrug as he folded his arms on the bed beside me. “Just a little personal knowledge I’ve picked up over the years while altering people’s uniforms,” he said, his blue eyes locked on mine.</p>
<p>“I see. One of these days, I’m going to know every dark little secret about you, you know that, don’t you?” I teased. He knew I wasn’t serious, but he played along anyway as he rose up and covered my mouth with his lips.</p>
<p>“You’ll try,” he murmured against my mouth.</p>
<p>It was like this that Ezri found us, a datapad in her hand. She cleared her throat and handed Garak the pad, which he immediately read over with increasing anger. He looked back at her and frowned. “You couldn’t identify the other set of prints?” he demanded sharply.</p>
<p>“Unfortunately, no. There is a total of three sets of prints on it: Deputy Kerral, yours and one other Cardassian. I wish there were more I could do,” she said helplessly.</p>
<p>“Wait, how did she get involved in all of this? What have I missed?” I asked, my eyes shifting between them. How many days had I lost being in this bed?</p>
<p>Garak appeared to have read my mind as he answered, “You’ve been unconscious or semi-conscious for two days.”</p>
<p>“Ash, why is this hitting me so hard but he’s practically on his feet?” I asked, feeling more than a bit perturbed. “Ashei?” She came over to me and began adjusting the cranial monitors on both mine and Garak’s foreheads before replying, her attention to her task taking priority, which was a trait I loved about having her on my team. That Cardassian work ethic, I thought as she took several readings, recorded them, and made additional adjustments as needed.</p>
<p>“Ashei!” I repeated with more than a bit of irritation, feeling like I was out of some great loop that I needed to be a part of.</p>
<p>“Yes, Doctor?”</p>
<p>“I asked a question?” I reminded her as I tried unsuccessfully to snatch my chart from her hands. There is long-held wisdom that says that doctors make the worst patients and I was no exception as I squirmed to sit up on the bed. Immediately, Dax, Ash and Garak were all pushing me back down, each one chiding me in his or her own way.</p>
<p>“To answer your question,” Ash began with a sigh, “You got the poison delivered directly to your bloodstream while Garak, aside from taking a much smaller dosage, swallowed it, which allowed his stomach to break down some of what he consumed. You should have been able to figure this out on your own, Doctor,” she said, tsking me as she walked back to her station.</p>
<p>“You’re losing your touch,” Garak teased. “That genetically enhanced brain of yours causing you trouble under the poison’s influence?”</p>
<p>“Behave,” I told him. “Now, how did Dax get involved?” I asked, looking up at the eternally youthful Ezri Dax with her sweet smile and shoulder length dark hair.</p>
<p>“I was asked to come down by Doctor Taruk, who was concerned about Garak’s influence on you. Actually, he contacted Colonel Kira, but she wasn’t getting involved and sent me down instead. Your Vulcan doctor was very unhappy because I apparently don’t meet his standards,” she said, arms crossed.</p>
<p>“And because I didn’t trust Security to help me find out who sent us the poison, I asked Ezri to borrow the syringe and analyze it for me since I was stuck in sick bay,” Garak replied as he sat back in his chair and folded his hands across his lap. His blue hospital gown flowed around him, curving around the angles of his Cardassian body. While I had seen it before as his physician on any number of occurrences, my interest now was much more personal.</p>
<p>“What’s wrong with Security?” I asked, glancing between them both. “You mean Deputy Kerral? The way she found us on the Promenade?” I asked suddenly, everything slowly falling into place. “You don’t think she--?”</p>
<p>“Her fingerprints are on the syringe. How it got to be in her possession, however, is a mystery. Either she arranged the entire thing or…” Garak began, pursing his lips as he looked down at his hands. “…or she touched it during inspection of someone’s bags. We’re going to trick her into revealing which of these scenarios it is and to do that, I will need you to lie, my dear,” he told me as he steepled his hands across his chest, his eyes intent on mine.</p>
<p>“You know I can’t lie, or when I do, I’m horrible at it,” I protested and took another sip from my glass.</p>
<p>“You’re going to have to,” Garak insisted, ignoring my argument and the way my eyes pleaded with him.</p>
<p>“Why can’t you do it? After all, it is second nature to you,” I pointed out.</p>
<p>“Because I’ll be dead.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Garak</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter 12: Garak</strong>
</p>
<p>Doctor Bashir lurched from his bed at me, his hands like claws and for a moment, I feared he would catch me with them. Ashei, smart woman that she was, was there in a heartbeat, her hands gently pushing down on my dear friend’s shoulders as he lay there sputtering at me. “What do you mean, you’ll be dead?”</p>
<p>I looked at my hands as if they were suddenly the most interesting things in the room; anything to avoid his confused and terrified wide-eyed gaze. My fingers were long, tapered, more delicate than typical Cardassian digits, which tended to be short, calloused, and blunt, much like their owners, I thought as I picked dirt from under a nail. “Garak!” Julian snapped at me as I ignored him.</p>
<p>At length, I sighed and looked over at the morgue drawers. To be honest, I didn’t like my plan any more than Julian was going to like it, but I needed him to spring a trap and for the trap to sprung, we needed bait.</p>
<p>I rose from my chair (as much as my weak legs allowed) and pointed to the drawers. “My dear Doctor, as much as I loathe enclosed spaces, particularly ones that are essentially designed for the deceased, I will be occupying one of those while you lie your way into a lady’s heart.”</p>
<p>“Garak, you have severe claustrophobia. You could suffer an attack and trigger any number of medical emergencies from synaptic failure to a heart attack. As your doctor, your friend and someone who cares very deeply for you, I am concerned that you could hurt yourself. Not to mention, Garak, it would be utter <em>torture</em> for you.” He was pleading with me not to go through with it, but I was implacable; I needed her to think I was dead.</p>
<p>“Actually,” I said, “Doctor Taruk is my doctor as you are presently a patient in the infirmary, lest you forgot,” I teased him in a pathetic attempt at levity.</p>
<p>Naturally, my young friend only grew more upset with that reminder and he reached out and grabbed my wrist, holding it as firmly as his weak hand allowed. I could have shaken him loose if I had wanted to, even as weak as I was, but I allowed him to hold onto me, his eyes boring into mine. Had they always been that rich shade of brown, I wondered as I met his gaze. I loved his angular face and delicate features and the way his smile reached his eyes when he was happy. For the moment, however, his face was a mask, unreadable as he stared at me. He was not happy.</p>
<p>“So, you’re going to lie on your back in one of those dark, cramped drawers—”</p>
<p>“—Naked—” Ash added helpfully. I felt my gut twist involuntarily.</p>
<p>“—so that I, a man who is as lacking in guile as you are full of it, can attempt to fool a woman into revealing all her dirty little secrets,” he observed in a dry, humorless tone.</p>
<p>He had an excellent point. If I woke up prematurely from the nap I was planning on taking during his task, my reaction would be one of terror and I would most certainly begin to panic; it was not an outcome I wanted to consider. “Which is as good of an incentive as I can think of for you to be <em>most</em> expeditious in your interrogation of our subject,” I told him with the barest quiver to my voice. I hoped he would dismiss it as fatigue, which was a symptom of the poison from which we were both suffering.</p>
<p>Julian winced and squeezed his eyes shut as he flopped back against the pillows and moaned, a frightful sound which prompted his assistant to rush to his side and check his vital signs. I was feeling it myself and sank heavily back into my chair; we didn’t have long. If an antidote wasn’t administered quickly, we would be down one handsome Starfleet doctor and one Cardassian tailor.</p>
<p>Ash wasn’t happy with her readings as she checked the monitor on his forehead and then turned to scan my own faltering readings. “It’s damned cold in here,” I complained as she covered me with a blanket. I could tell that she was beginning to get very worried though she tried not to show it.</p>
<p>“I’m close to the antidote; I can <em>feel</em> it. I just need a bit more time,” she said in a fearful voice as she rushed back to her console. Where was the rest of the staff? The doctors? A nurse? Somebody! This young woman was brilliant, and she had been trained very well but she wasn’t a doctor, at least not yet.</p>
<p>“You’re running out of time,” Bashir said from his bed as pain rippled throughout his body like a wave spreading out across a beach. The waves… I <em>knew</em> this sensation and I <em>knew</em> the drug that caused them.</p>
<p>During my training for the Order, we had been exposed to numerous poisons and substances that could kill us or force us to speak. This poison, in low doses, was an excellent analgesic but in higher quantities, it was deadly. I, like many in my pod, had been exposed to it so that we would know what we were dealing with if we were ever caught. It was all coming together for me as I straightened myself in my chair, eager to tell Julian’s assistant what poison had brought us both to our knees. However, fate is seldom a kind mistress and when you tempt her—when you delay just long enough to flirt with her, oh yes, fate is not kind.</p>
<p>That was when my heart decided to stop, and everything went dark.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Bashir</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter 13: Bashir</strong>
</p>
<p>Garak was resting. His heart had in fact not stopped, but the poison was working its way into his Cardassian brain and affecting him now worse than before. I realized that if we were going to fix this, we would need to set his plan into motion immediately. But part of me simply could not fathom how Deputy Kerral Nezra could be behind this or even <em>why</em>. Yes, she held deep-seated resentments against the Cardassian people; many Bajorans did, including our own Kira, but most had moved on with realization that the Cardassian people were as much a victim of their own government as the Bajorans had been. It broke my heart to have to fool Nezra into believing Garak was dead, but I feared it was the best way to see how she reacted.</p>
<p>With Ashei and Doctor Taruk’s help, we set the plan into motion, realizing that we would have only a little while to do it since Garak could not be left in the drawer for long because it had very little oxygen and with his severe claustrophobia, waking up in the drawer could be devastating to him. Taruk, whose disapproving glare followed him like a black cloud throughout the process, had devised a means of oxygenating the cramped space without drawing attention to the fact that there was life-support in a morgue drawer. Still, the small tube did not produce as much as Garak really needed, even unconscious. For this to work, I had to time it perfectly and draw out from her as much as I could, as quickly as I could.</p>
<p>I knew I could do it; I had done it before. But Garak was a genius at interrogation and part of me wished fervently that he could advise me during it all. He was also charismatic and cunning as hell, which wasn’t to say that I wasn’t, but he was a master manipulator who could convince a person to babble their inner most secrets with a word or two. Add to that mix his insane smile, which could be forced or genuine depending on his mood, he either came off crazy or calculating, but was generally a bit of both. It was one of the things that had initially terrified me about him in the beginning whilst endearing him to me at the same time. He was an enigma that I sorely wanted to understand.</p>
<p>Unless I got our lady friend to open up about what she knew, I might never get the chance.</p>
<p>“Doctor? Are you ready?” Ashei asked as she gave me a gentle analgesic to control the pain that had spread to every limb. I was in much worse condition than I was leading on and despite knowing the family this poison came from, knowing the specific compound was key to making the antidote.</p>
<p>I swallowed. “Positions, everyone… And… Action!” I said, quoting my college drama professor with a smirk.</p>
<p>Doctor Taruk got on the comm and said, “I need a deputy to the infirmary. One of my poison victims just died and we need to identify that poison! Can someone come down and talk to Doctor Bashir?” I heard a voice, our suspect, ask who the victims were. I frowned; was security that bad now or was she playing games? “The Cardassian, Elim Garak, is the fatality and Doctor Bashir himself was a victim, and he is alive, but we’re struggling to save him. We need your help identifying the compound. Maybe station security has it in their computer?” The woman’s voice grew concerned as she asked about me and Taruk, who was generally very grumpy for a Vulcan, groused at her, “The man is going to <em>die</em> if we don’t get the name of the poison immediately, so no, he is not alright.”</p>
<p>“On my way,” she said.</p>
<p>Taruk lowered his gaze on me and crossed his arms, a frown on his creased face. “Are you happy, Doctor? I lied for you and now I wish to wash my hands of this illogical <em>nonsense</em>.” I wanted to ask him if he was half Romulan as he didn’t wait for my answer and walked out—no, <em>stormed</em> out, but with purpose. The way that this particular Vulcan handled his frustration was very much like watching the controlled implosion of a building during demolition, particularly in the way he made his point without fracturing his stone-faced expression. It was the ultimate poker-face and not one I wanted to deal with during a game of cards.</p>
<p>I looked back at Ash, who was behind the console in my office and nodded. “Computer, lights at twenty-five percent, concentrated over my position,” I said.</p>
<p>“Affirmative. Lights are twenty-five percent, concentrated over the position of Doctor Bashir.”</p>
<p>“Computer, shine a single light over hospital bed three as well.” That was Garak’s empty bed and it was left in deliberate disarray as if he had just been removed from it not long ago. The whole thing was set up to be uncomfortable, dark, and foreboding. I wanted her to feel bad about it all, assuming she could. Additionally, there was only one chair in the room, the one that Garak had occupied before falling ill; she would have to sit in it and face me directly.</p>
<p>I swallowed and did my level best to appear weak and frail in the hospital bed. My vitals, which were weak to begin with, were slowed down to look worse than they were—a ruse to garner sympathy. And a drop in each eye of a minor irritant would cause my eyes to redden and tear up as if I had been crying was the final touch. Everything was ready, especially me.</p>
<p>She walked in, spotted my prone form, and immediately rushed to my side. “Doctor? Doctor Bashir! <em>Julian</em>! Can you hear me?”</p>
<p>“What?” I croaked, turning my dark, bloodshot gaze to her. I swallowed hard and squinted at her through my tears. “Deputy? Is that you?”</p>
<p>“Yes, Doctor. I heard you were ill, felled by poison…”</p>
<p>“<em>Cardassian</em> poison,” I muttered beneath my breath in a hoarse whisper.</p>
<p>“Yes, so I’ve heard. How did you get poisoned? It surely wasn’t meant-meant for you?” I closed my eyes, squinting against the irritation and let out my breath; my eyes were really itching. Maybe I had taken the method acting part of this a touch too far.</p>
<p>“Garak got the full brunt of it. As his-his friend, I was trying to-to help… Sucked it out… Swallowed some,” I opened one of my irritated brown eyes and peered directly at her to see her reaction, which was, as I suspected, nearly giddy with her presumed success. Couldn’t she have at least <em>tried</em> to hide her feelings about this, I wondered.</p>
<p>“Where is he?” she asked coolly as she walked around the infirmary, noting the dark room and the odd targets of the lights. Odo might have realized he was in a trap under these circumstances; she did not. “Did he really die?” she asked as her eyes shifted between me and his empty bed.</p>
<p>“What do you think?” I croaked bitterly. Over the years, Garak’s lessons in lying had paid off to the point the point that my eyes didn’t even shift anymore when I did it. In learning how to catch <em>his</em> lies, I had in turn learned to cover my own truths in decent fashion and this deputy, trained as she was to catch them, failed to catch mine.</p>
<p>“Where is he?” she repeated, ignoring the pain in my voice.</p>
<p>“The-the morgue, over there, the drawers. I don’t know which one though.”</p>
<p>“Computer, locate the body of Elim Garak.” <em>Please, please don’t ask for a report on his condition</em>, I pleaded with her inside my head. I wondered if the Prophets heard the prayers of non-Bajorans when she didn’t ask that question of the computer. If she had, the ruse would have been over and a single phaser blast might have ended my friend’s life, depending on how much she cared about murdering a person with witnesses present.</p>
<p>“Elim Garak is located in drawer 6-B, Row 2,” the computer replied, leaving out “The body of”; it could have been disastrous had she been paying attention. Hopefully, she simply accepted it as the computer’s particular verbal syntax.</p>
<p>She located the drawer and pulled it out, revealing Garak’s unconscious form in its deep sleep and touched his skin, which was generally cool to the touch regardless due to Cardassians having a cooler reptilian body temperature compared to mammalian races like humans. “He looks almost harmless,” she mused as she looked him over dispassionately, her head tilted to one side. “What’s that hissing sound?” she asked, looking back at me.</p>
<p>“Coolant,” I lied. “They have to do an autopsy in the morning, and we can’t have him starting to decay prematurely.” God, had I actually said that? I was feeling sick to my stomach and it had nothing to do with the poison.</p>
<p>“Cardassian poison almost killed you—might still kill you—and you aren’t mad at them, Doctor?” she asked, closing the drawer on my friend, and turning back to me. How could she be so cold about this, I wondered. How could she hate them so much that she was able to look at the body of a person she had potentially just murdered and feel <em>nothing</em>? As a doctor, this hatred was incomprehensible to me.</p>
<p>“The real question is how it got there in the first place,” I taunted as she took her place in Garak’s empty chair, her eyes on me as she folded her hands in her lap and shivered. The temperature in the infirmary was lower than normal, about nineteen degrees. Under my blanket and in my medical gown, I was comfortable enough, but I could see that she was not. This would further disrupt her composure and was an idea of Garak’s. He had once instructed me that an uncomfortable interrogation subject usually speaks with the least amount of prodding. I hoped this was true.</p>
<p>“A good question, Doctor. Do you have ideas?” she responded coolly.</p>
<p>“How does it make you feel now that Garak is dead?” I was probably rushing her, but I needed to get Garak out of the morgue as quickly as possible. What Deputy Kerral did not know was that the chief of security, Constable Malta Varee, was watching the entire thing from her office with deputies at the ready to make an arrest once she had heard enough.</p>
<p>“How does it make you feel when a difficult surgery you thought had little or no chance of success saves a life?” she responded, answering my question with an indirect question of her own. This was a tactic I had read about in my spy novels, a kind of redirect to force the interrogator to see the story from the suspect’s point of view.</p>
<p>“Elated, I suppose, though I usually have a grasp on my chances before the outset. But you make a good point. So, you’re <em>happy</em> that Garak is…no longer with us,” I hesitated at the lie as my eyes misted over. This was so much harder for me than I had expected. I closed them as tears ran down my cheeks and I coughed, a sound that exited my throat with great effort. The truth was, I was starting to fail, my body catching up to my persona. I needed the name of the compound,<em> now</em>. “Why?” I whispered as a nurse, her face shadowed by the darkness behind me, handed me a glass of water, which I took gratefully.</p>
<p>She pursed her lips, shivered again, and looked up at the ceiling. “Computer, increase temperature to twenty-three degrees,” she ordered uncomfortably.</p>
<p>“Cannot comply; environmental controls are locked and may only be unlocked by Doctor Ashei Macrost or Doctor Taurk.”</p>
<p>Deputy Kerral looked back at me and frowned, “Well, that’s annoying; it’s <em>freezing</em> in here!”</p>
<p>“Yes, it is. But aren’t all infirmaries ice-cold?” I joked lightly. God, I was bad at this. “Why are you happy that my friend, a man I cared deeply about, is dead?” I pressed.</p>
<p>“Why not?” she exclaimed unexpectedly. “He’s a <em>Card</em>. A spoon-face or spoon-head, whatever. He deserved to die; they <em>all</em> deserve to die. I wish the Dominion had wiped their existence out of the system, personally.” There’s a girl, give me that motive I desire. She wasn’t even <em>trying</em> to bluff me anymore, as if she found this game as distasteful as I did.</p>
<p>“Even Ash, my assistant? She has helped you before on multiple occasions, has she not?” I pressed, unsure I wanted to know the answer. I personally adored Ash, a Cardassian medical student who had chosen to come to Deeps Space Nine to work specifically with me when she heard I was back at the station. She was a superb doctor with a great bedside manner and smile that put everyone she came into contact with at ease. She possessed, as they say, a good and gentle soul. It pleased me to see the hesitation on Kerral’s face as she twitched under my question.</p>
<p>She was forced to look away from me as she repeated, “They <em>all</em> deserve to die.”</p>
<p>“Why?” I whispered.</p>
<p>She looked back at me in silence as I begged this conclude quickly. Evidently, wishing all Cardassians dead wasn’t enough to arrest a person since many Bajorans held similar views to hers. “Because Cards killed my parents and brother on a shuttle more than twenty years ago. I was a <em>baby</em>, brought up on this station, raised by the people around me. It was a miserable, horrible life until the Federation came and freed us from this hellhole. That damned tailor and his smiling face were a constant sight here until Starfleet arrived and my adopted family took me to Bajor, away from him. By the time I returned, he was gone. Then… He came back. Not only is he back here, I walk up on you and you’re holding him like you have <em>feelings</em> for him or something!” She shuddered with disgust and hugged her legs close to her body. “How <em>could</em> you?”</p>
<p>I squinted at her as she glared at me with raw accusation mixed with hurt. Surely this wasn’t a case of petty jealousy? “Kerral… <em>Nezra</em>, you aren’t upset that we, well, that it didn’t go beyond one date? I just, I don’t like closed people, you see. You don’t like aliens, so it stunned me that you even went out with me that one time. Was it personal for you?”</p>
<p>She rose from her chair, angry now as she walked up to my bed and brought her face close to mine. Fervently, I wished I had had a phaser under the blanket just in case she got physically violent as she hissed at me in low, hushed tones, “You always know how to manipulate people, don’t you, Doctor Bashir? It’s always about <em>you</em> because you’re so fucking <em>perfect</em>! Well, you aren’t, not even as an enhanced human, you aren’t. You’re <em>still</em> an alien, just not as abhorrent as those-those <em>monsters</em> are! I watched them kill people on the promenade, Doctor! I watched them rape women in plain sight of children like myself! You have no idea the horrors these creatures inflicted on us! So, yes, I wanted some of them to pay, like your friend! And now he’s dead and I couldn’t be prouder.”</p>
<p>She was weeping, shaking and hugging herself as she walked around the infirmary, no longer trying to keep her voice low as she exploded at me, “To answer your question, yes, I did it and I will gladly do it again! The fact that I will never ever have to see that Cardassian grin at me again only adds to my pleasure at killing Elim Garak! Unfortunately, there does seem to be a casualty that I failed to account for and that will be you, dear doctor…” she said, reaching for her weapon.</p>
<p>Just then, I heard pounding and furious screaming coming from the direction of the morgue and thought, ‘<em>Shit</em>; Garak has woken up.’</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Garak</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter 14: Garak</strong>
</p>
<p>I woke in darkness, vaguely aware of a pinprick of light streaming around the opening of the drawer I lay in. At first, I fought to maintain my composure, breathing deeply in long, slow breaths, infinitely grateful for the extra dose of pure, clean oxygen that was being fed into my dark prison. It took everything I had to lie still and remain content to quietly listen to the woman at length as she spoke. Her voice was familiar now that I was no longer viewing her face and what she said wasn’t wrong, no. It was the truth spoken from the memory of a little girl I recalled as clearly as if the memory had been formed yesterday.</p>
<p>I do understand how our people had maligned hers—which we no doubt did! There was no question that atrocities occurred during the occupation, many far worse than even I was willing to accept. I understood, oh yes, I understood far more than anyone realized. While I, myself had not partaken in any of these acts personally, I had witnessed them and even, when I could do so without drawing notice, helped those victims I could.</p>
<p>But I had been an exiled Cardassian and the Bajorans more often than not had refused my help, even when my kindness was genuine and not self-serving, like the time a little Bajoran girl ran into my shop to hide when a Cardassian soldier had tried to run her down. I didn’t ask why as I sheltered her delicate form into the midst of a full rack of dresses. I gave her some food and told her to hush so that I could deal with the soldier as he stormed in and demanded to know where the child was. I demurred, bowed to him, and swept my arms through the air, indicating that it was empty, an enigmatic smirk on my face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about; it’s just the clothes and I, I’m afraid. Are you interested in some pants, perhaps? Or a new shirt? That uniform looks a touch too big on you; have you lost weight?”</p>
<p>A bit of flattery, a distracting smile, a promise of whispered pleasure when he was off duty and he left my shop, content to forget about a little dark-haired Bajoran girl with big, green eyes who may—or may not—have been in my shop. The child ran out after I turned my back but cast her gaze on me in a lingering look, as if trying to remember my face for the future. “Why did you help me?” she asked.</p>
<p>I grinned down at her and said, “Why not? They’re as much my enemies as yours.”</p>
<p>She then gifted me with a rare smile, thanked me, and I never saw her again.</p>
<p>Until now.</p>
<p>As far as our soldier goes, well, I <em>did</em> keep my promise of late-night pleasures—all of them his, I assure you. I was a participant in body only, much like the comfort women Dukat preferred. It was a worthy exchange, I thought. But now, the realization of how she had forgotten the tailor who had saved her life by giving up a part of his own soul late one night filled me with rage. Yes, oh yes, I recognized her now and I wanted to remind her of why she was alive! Then the walls started caving in and the panic flooded my body and mind. I started kicking, pounding, yelling as I beat on the ceiling of my cell. I couldn’t breathe! Help me! <em>Help me! </em></p>
<p>The drawer, which had not shut all the way when, I assume, the subject of our interrogation had peered in on my prone, naked form, suddenly gave way. I spilled out onto the floor with flailing grey limbs and wild, unkempt black hair. It now had delicate strands of grey in it these days that I had been dying to maintain my youthful appearance.</p>
<p>I rose to unsteady bare feet just as the deputy, startled by my sudden appearance in the nude, dropped the hand holding the phaser, once aimed at Bashir, as was now pointing it at me. Flailing under the blankets in a vain attempt to stop her, Julian attempted a weak lunge. Unencumbered by a blanket (or anything else for that matter) dangly bits and all swaying as I gauged the distance between us—I leapt for her. “Leapt” is perhaps too dramatic a verb to use as I was still just barely strong enough to walk. Basically, I took a few ragged steps and threw myself at her as she was about to shoot me. She fought as I held tight to her, my face against hers, our eyes locked.</p>
<p>“Do you remember me, girl?” I hissed in my fury, our mouths close enough to touch, noses pressed together. “<em>Do you</em>? I saved your life once! This—<em>body</em>—saved your life. You should be <em>grateful.</em> Instead, you grew up to be as vile as the monsters you accuse <em>my</em> kind of being. I suppose it isn’t your fault; look at the role models you had. Still, to think that you had forgotten a man whose hands had fed you and whose body was given so that you would not have to suffer--! I never forgot though, oh no, because Cardassians are doomed to remember <em>everything</em> in great detail for their entire lives. How… sad.” Disgusted and exhausted, I crawled away from her as Julian dropped down from his bed and moved to wrap his blanket around my body. Damn, it was cold in this room! “Computer, turn the damn temperature up ten degrees!” I demanded.</p>
<p>“Affirmative. Temperature has been raised ten degrees,” the computer stated as Deputy Kerral was swarmed by several people in the tan uniforms of the Bajoran security detail. She didn’t bother to fight them as she glared at Bashir, tears pouring down her face from those big eyes.</p>
<p>“I understand what you were doing now,” she murmured as she was hauled to her feet. “This <em>felt </em>like an interrogation, but I hoped—I thought—this sort of thing was beyond you.” She looked at me as her hands were cuffed in irons, a tear running down her cheek. “I remember you now, from when I first met you. I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I was a child…” Just as she was about to be led out, she stopped, halting her entourage as she looked back at us. “Doctor, if your staff haven’t figured it out yet, it’s a Tetrodotoxin. My half-brother, who is a half-Cardassian scientist on Cardassia Prime, procured it for me. There’s a second ampule in my quarters that you can have. For what it’s worth, I’m… sorry.”</p>
<p>I ignored her and sank into Julian’s arms as Ashei brought me a clean medical gown and Doctor Taruk arrived from where he was hiding. There was a flutter of activity around me as I was dressed and tucked into bed. My head was swimming, and nothing seemed real, not even the passage of time, and eventually I fell asleep with Julian’s hands locked in mine and his eyes the last thing I recall seeing as darkness claimed me once more.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Bashir</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter 15: Bashir</strong>
</p>
<p>It was over. Incredibly, it was finally over, and we could forget the whole thing. I looked over at Garak, who was no longer under the influence of the poison as the antidote, in hypospray form, was pressed into his bloodstream by my assistant. Ash grinned and said, “Your turn, Doc. Chin up; it’s best if we shoot this into the carotid artery so that it gets into your brain faster.” She positioned the muzzle of the device against my throat just under my jaw and depressed the antidote into my bloodstream. Normally, hyposprays didn’t bother me; God knows I’ve had hundreds, most of those in med school as we learned how to use them by testing them on each other, but this one hurt.</p>
<p>Kerral was going to have to face not one but three courts: Federation because her poison nearly killed a Starfleet officer, Bajor because the incident happened on their station and Cardassia, because their former Castellon was the intended victim. Cardassia was also interested in the half-brother and I suspected it would not be long before charges were brought against him as well, even if he hadn’t a clue what the poison would be used for. For his sake, I hoped that Garak had reformed their legal system sufficiently that the accused were given a chance to actually defend themselves rather than be deemed guilty at the moment of arrest.</p>
<p>As I’ve pointed out, doctors make terrible patients, which applies especially to me. I rolled over onto my back and squinted my eyes shut, thankful the day was done and soon, we could return to our lives—or start new ones. I looked over at Garak and wondered what his plans were. I knew he intended to stay, or so he had said, but what about long term? I guess I wanted to know what our future would look like. I already knew I could easily live on Cardassia if that was an issue, but would <em>he</em> want to?</p>
<p>I decided to stop fretting; things would work out. They always worked out.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Garak</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter 16: Garak</strong>
</p>
<p>The beam of bright, blinding white light flooded my vision with the intensity of falling into a spotlight with your eyes open. For a moment, flashbacks of an interrogation in which I was the one answering questions came to mind and fear, raw and intense, gripped me. For a moment, I forgot where I was and what I was doing there. On the brink of madness, I yelled, “Get that <em>fucking thing</em> out of my eyes! What are you <em>thinking</em>?” Judging by the amused, if startled expression on Julian’s face when I backhanded the light out of his hand, he was not expecting my reaction. We both watched it glide through the air and skid across the floor to stop at Ashei’s feet. It was then that things settled, and I knew where I was and that I was safe.</p>
<p>Grinning broadly, Bashir, who now had several days of dark stubble on his chin and upper lip, said cheerfully, “He lives, Ash!” I rather liked this look on him as opposed to the clean-cut youthful shaven appearance he usually had per Starfleet regulation. There were flecks of grey in his whiskers that I found quite charming. I reached up and laid my hand flat against his bewhiskered cheek as he leaned over me for a soft kiss. “How do you feel?” he asked kindly in his luxuriously accented voice. It was so low, I almost mistook it for a feline purr.</p>
<p> “Mmm, better now that the light is out of my eyes. My pupils can dilate just fine on their own, thank you,” I grumbled to him. “How do <em>you</em> feel?” Julian was in full “doctor mode” as he checked my vitals, comparing them to a datapad in his hand, even though he was in what he referred to as his “civvies”.</p>
<p>“Much better now that you’re awake. It took a bit for you to come out of it due to the stress your body was under. It was only a few hours longer than I took, but still, I had my concerns.” He looked over his shoulder as Ash swiped the pad from his fingers and shoved him into a chair near my bed. “Hey!”</p>
<p>“You’re off-duty, Julian. This man is <em>my</em> patient,” she said with a clever wink at me.</p>
<p>“I thought I was Dr. Taruk’s patient?” I asked, confused as Ash finished what Doctor Bashir had started.</p>
<p>“I got word that I am now officially a doctor and no longer a student and I plan to apply to Starfleet Medical as soon as Doctor Bashir gets back on his feet on full duty,” she explained as she ran a full diagnostic on me using a tricorder and some other medical device. “He’s going to write my recommendation letter.”</p>
<p>“You’re joining <em>Starfleet</em>?” I asked, incredulous.</p>
<p>“Why not? It <em>is</em> why I wanted to do my residency under Doctor Bashir here on the station. If Cardassia is to enter the Federation, don’t you think it would be wise to have a Cardassian doctor or two in Starfleet?” She wasn’t wrong, but as a dyed in the wool Cardassian, it still struck me as, well, a bit like a betrayal.</p>
<p>I pulled myself up into a seated position and gazed at her, searching her face for some hint that she was joking. She wasn’t. “Are you sure you want to do this? Cardassia could use a doctor of your caliber and exceptional training. You could even travel to Bajor. Why Starfleet?” I knew I sounded plaintive, but it stung that she was abandoning our people for the Federation, despite knowing that this was what I had wanted for our people myself. I just didn’t expect it to happen so soon and so close to home. She truly was a remarkable young woman and about the same age as Ziyal was when she died; I suppose I didn’t want to see another of my people lost because of this station.</p>
<p>She leaned close and kissed my cheek fondly as she took my hand. “Garak, I know you’re worried about my red-blooded Cardassian soul, but I know what I’m doing. This is what I want, and I think it’s the best thing for both our people, Federation and Cardassian. You <em>do</em> understand, don’t you? You see, once people see us in Starfleet, they will begin to change how they feel about us, just like Nog did for the Ferengi. It’s <em>my</em> turn to set the record straight on how amazing we are, Elim.”</p>
<p>I sighed and closed my eyes, relishing the way she said my first name. She wasn’t wrong; we <em>had</em> to begin somewhere. And a skilled doctor who had trained with the estimable Doctor Bashir would be more easily accepted than, say, a Cardassian soldier or security officer, especially a physician as charming as this woman was.</p>
<p>I patted her hand like a father would a daughter and beamed at her, “Of course, my dear. You’re correct and I suppose I’m acting like the same man I was twenty years ago when, despite being fiercely loyal to Cardassia, I was exiled. This is your own way of honoring our people. I’m proud of you.” I pulled myself up higher and swung my legs over the side of the bed, my toes eagerly reaching for the floor. When had my legs gotten so skinny? “Now, if you don’t mind, I would very much like to put on some pants and walk out of here.”</p>
<p>She helped me stand on my feet and gave me an assessment that was more thorough than the previous one. She tested my balance, my vision and even my hearing by rubbing her fingers together near my ears while Julian watched on with his arms folded across his chest. He was smiling, though the smile was thoughtful, kind and not tinged with his usual amusement. I met that cheerful expression with slow roll of my eyes. Must we continue these ridiculous tests, I wondered.</p>
<p>As if she had heard my thoughts, Ash popped the cranial monitors from my forehead and patted my shoulder. “You’re good to go, Mister Garak,” she said in a jovial voice. “No traces left of the poison and your vitals are better than Julain’s,” she said with a glance over her shoulder. “Doctor’s orders are for you both to relax and avoid anything strenuous. No discussions about politics or Enigma Tales and stay away from the holosuites. Oh, and avoid spicy foods for a while.” She then fixed her stern, green eyes on my face. “No Kanar for at least three days; tea and water,” she admonished; the woman knew me much better than I had expected.</p>
<p>Julian held out my clothes to me as I gave a long, drawn-out sigh, saying, “And people wonder why I dislike the sanctimonious preaching of doctors.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Bashir</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter 17: Bashir</strong>
</p>
<p>A week passed while Garak and I recovered from our stay in the infirmary. We spent much of that time in one another’s company, often in deep discussion over Garak’s changes to the Cardassian government, his embrace of democracy (such as it was on his world—there were concessions made in some areas to make the transition more appealing.) The Obsidian Order had been replaced by another intelligence group that was run more like Section Thirty-One than the original Order, something Garak was very proud of.</p>
<p>“I’m still reluctantly involved,” he admitted as he took a sip of his tea while we ate lunch. “I don’t head it, but I made certain that the civilian government had a say in its leadership, at least to a degree. But the rest of it is very much like what we had before, minus the back-biting and internal conflicts. The head of the new Organization, which we have dubbed ‘Obsidian Light’…”</p>
<p>“Really, Garak? Is that all you can think of?” I chided in amusement, my eyes on his face as he blinked back at me. I was wearing a shirt Garak had made me; violet silk with bits of gold thread shot through the fabric. It was buttoned low on my chest and untucked so that it draped outside of the pair of comfortable grey trousers I was wearing. Garak was impeccable as ever in his gold and purple suit, his black hair slicked back away from his face. As I watched him talk, I felt myself happily mesmerized by his handsome visage and that incredible smile.</p>
<p>“It’s a <em>nick-name</em>, Julian. We still call it the ‘Obsidian Order’ but my memories of the Order are tainted by the scars Tain and his lackies put there. I never want the new organization to resemble the old one again… If you only knew some of what we did, my dear, you would hate us all, even myself. As it is, you alone know more than anyone—and I pray it remains that way.” There was a comfortable silence between us as he reached across the table and took my hands in his. “I’m happy to be back here with you,” he said gently.</p>
<p>“Me too, Garak. Thank you for coming back, old friend. I’ve missed you.”</p>
<p>We sat like this for a while until two female bodies squeezed in beside us, one of them loudly asking, “This seat taken? No? Good.” The Colonel, her eyes dancing above a smile that had aged very gracefully, sat her tray down beside me as Garak and I were deliberately shoved together so that we were shoulder to shoulder, flanked by Dax on the other side. “Hey, Garak! How are yah?” Kira asked as she pressed her palm to his in the traditional Cardassian greeting.</p>
<p>“Alive for the time being,” he said with a laugh. “Hopefully, I won’t be the subject of too many more assassination attempts.”</p>
<p>“We thought we would join you for lunch, if it’s alright,” Ezri said to both of as she frowned down at the plate of pasta in front of her. “This was one of Jadzia’s favorite foods. I like it okay, but I don’t see the appeal.”</p>
<p>“It’s <em>pasta</em>, Ezri. Humans call it a ‘comfort food’ because it’s supposed to make you feel good. I craved it <em>constantly</em> when I was carrying Miles’ and Keiko’s baby. And, yes, it made me feel good, but not once since then.” Kira told her with a chuckle at my expense as she dipped her fork into her salad. “I have something for you guys, by the way,” she said as if just remembering.</p>
<p>She reached into a pocket and held up an optolythic data rod. I took it and turned it around in my fingers. “It isn’t much,” she explained. “Just something some of the climatologists on Bajor were playing with. When I heard what it was, I thought it would be neat as a way to experience Cardassia—the way it used to look, before the climate got ruined. They did an <em>incredible</em> job; I understand the sunsets are very romantic,” she said, bumping me with her hip.</p>
<p>I met Garak’s gaze and, for the moment, his face was a mask. His pale, blue eyes were wide, lips slightly parted and he seemed—lost? Awestruck? It was hard to say. “May I?” he asked, taking it from me. It looked like any other data rod, but this one had something on it that Garak had never seen before, yet clearly needed to see. When he looked back at me, there were tears in his eyes. “Tonight, dear doctor?” he asked simply, though his expression was pleading.</p>
<p>“Of course! I was going to ask you if you wanted to go on a date tonight regardless, so why not a virtual trip to Cardassia?” I replied cheerfully.</p>
<p>Kira and Dax, having finished their food, rose from the table with a shared look of triumph. Leaning in, the Colonel whispered in my ear, “You have a holosuite from eighteen-hundred until oh-seven-hundred in the morning; use the time well. I’ll see to it nobody bothers you. Have a nice date.”</p>
<p>“How did you--?” I started to ask.</p>
<p>“Quark owed me some favors. Don’t ask,” she said with a laugh as she and Dax left Garak and I to finish our shared meal in silence.</p>
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<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Garak</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You know you've waited 17 chapters for them to become intimate. There's sex, not explicit, but there is sex for the next two chapters. That's your content warning.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter 18: Garak</strong>
</p>
<p>The moment I stepped into the holosuite, I felt transported. I was home, though not the home I was accustomed to. I knew the shore we walked out on; I knew the lake glittering just a few yards away. I knew the scent in the air and the gentle kiss of the humid atmosphere as it bathed me in warmth. I closed my eyes and inhaled, sighing as I let the air flow out of my body.</p>
<p>Eventually, arms slid around me from behind, adding another dimension to my experience, one in which I was not alone, one in which I was loved. I leaned back into the embrace and the soft breeze that enveloped us as we stood on the bank of a lake that, today, was a dry bed full of rubble and the desiccated remains of people who were too deeply buried to dig up.</p>
<p>Long ago, Cardassia was conquered by a race of space-faring warriors who destroyed the planet’s delicate ecosystem and caused catastrophic changes to the land, the people, and the environment. It was, sadly, the same thing we did to the Bajorans in our presumed “racial superiority”. Still, there were pockets of life on Cardassia that ignored the harsh conditions elsewhere to eke out an existence. It had been one of my dreams to see Cardassia returned to this more temperate, humid state in spite of overwhelming evidence that it wasn’t possible. My precious Edosian orchids were proof, however, that there was hope, however faint, that it might actually <em>be</em> possible.</p>
<p>I held onto this moment, forcing myself to remember it as if it wasn’t on a space station in Bajoran space, but on my home planet in the future. And that Julian and I were <em>home</em>, where I was growing my orchids and living peacefully surrounded by my friends and supported by a father who loved me…</p>
<p>Fantasy. It was all just a fantasy. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I clung to the only real thing in the room as fiercely as I clung to my love of Cardassia—Doctor Bashir, Julian, my friend… Beloved. Hopefully, after tonight, I could add “lover” to that list. While my reptilian Cardassian brain could not excuse the reality of where I was, it allowed me, at least, to love the creation the Bajoran scientists had made—and the man standing behind me.</p>
<p>It was so wondrously perfect.</p>
<p>I turned around in Julian’s arms and forced a long, emotional kiss on his mouth, which he returned with delightful eagerness. Breathless, I sucked in a gulp of air as our lips parted long enough for me to search his face. He was smiling, tan cheeks flushed in the low light of the setting Cardassian sun. “Are you alright?” he asked as I walked with my arm around him to the canopy set up near an impressive array of food choices.</p>
<p>I bobbed my head, my voice a hard lump in my throat as I settled in beside him on cushions near a pillow-filled round depression at the center of the structure. I tried to ignore the purpose of the bed and concentrated on the food that I suddenly had no interest in. While the scent of Cardassian stews, curried vegetables, and the unmistakable scent of Yamok sauce taunted me, there was something else I needed more than food; it sat like a knot in my belly. Julian watched me as my eyes searched his face; I hoped he understood what I was feeling: that food was so far removed from everything I needed in that moment.</p>
<p>He put down his plate and rose to his knees as I crept closer. Our hands touched, palms pressed together as we leaned in for an incredibly long, intense tangle of lips and tongues. Cardassians are not generally known for being romantic, but I had a sensual streak in me and enjoyed touching and being touched. When Bashir’s lips grazed my neck along my left neck ridge, my body noticeably reacted in the slight, breezy clothing I was wearing for our date. The turquoise and gold leaf patterned ensemble was more for sleeping in—or taking off rather than anything I would ever wear in public. As a result, it fluttered around my body, more for decoration than modesty, leaving <em>very</em> little to the imagination. Julian’s eyes took note of it and he promptly began to panic.</p>
<p>Part of me felt some sense of smug satisfaction since Cardassian males were endowed with tight, compact external genitals that nevertheless were <em>quite</em> impressive during arousal. If Julian had expected his medical examinations at various points during the years to leave him with few surprises, he was now left speechless. The other part of me was somewhat annoyed by his hesitation since the very reason we were here was to have sex. Sex required arousal; did he not think this date through? Still, a final, though significant part of me was sympathetic since it <em>was</em> his first time with a man, much less a Cardassian man. I suppose it would do no good to tell him that I was of an average size compared to most Cardassian men; Skrain Dukat was rumored to have been as large as his sex drive, which I understood to be <em>quite</em> impressive. Fortunately for me, he only ever had eyes for women, usually Bajoran women at that.</p>
<p>The good doctor was babbling away at warp speed, talking about the setting sun, the moon reflecting on the water and asked if I wanted to go swimming (I did, but I fully intended do so nude). I allowed him his panicked dialogue as I reached for his shirt and calmly began to unbutton it. He was sweating profusely though he didn’t stop me from undressing him. It was only when my fingers teased the waistband of his pants that he lurched away from me.</p>
<p>I stopped and calmly sat back on my heals as he looked at me with his flustered gaze, cheeks burning with color. “Garak, I—You have to understand that I have <em>never ever</em> been with a man before. This is new to me and I have so many concerns about what pleases you and—”</p>
<p>I reached out my hands to him, which he took, and drew him close to me without—quite—touching bodies. “Well, my neck ridges as you have discovered are a nice place to start. As for the rest of it… Just, well—play it by feel. I have some experience with men <em>and </em>women and a smattering of other species, some which don’t even have defined genders. It’s all a non-issue to me. If it <em>feels</em> good and I like the person I’m with, I go for it. It’s really very simple, my dear doctor.”</p>
<p>“You don’t get nervous the first time?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Do you get nervous the first time you remove a <em>woman’s</em> clothes?” I prompted with one brow-ridge raised, a teasing smirk on my lips.</p>
<p>“There’s an awkwardness in the beginning but it subsides after a while as I get into it,” he admitted as he realized where I was leading him. He was now plucking at my shirt, which I allowed him to eventually haul over my head.</p>
<p>For a few seconds, my hair was disheveled, a sight that made him laugh as he smoothed it back in place. I caught his hands in mine, kissed them, and pressed my nose against his. “This will be no different,” I explained. “The first time is <em>always</em> awkward; it doesn’t matter who you’re with or their gender or their species. The first time is about figuring out which tabs go into which slots and managing the mechanics of it all. Once you do that, you go back for a second round,” I kissed his lips to punctuate my words, “…then a third round…” Another gentle kiss. “…and then, if you think you can handle it, a <em>fourth</em> round. <em>If</em>—you can handle it. Then it’s all downhill and you’ll never look at me the same way again. But that’s <em>only</em> if you can handle it. And me.”</p>
<p>It was that little challenge that sparked Julian’s fire as he pressed his body against mine and drew my torso tight against his. Then we were on our knees, kissing and tugging at one another’s pants until they were down below our hips, pooling around us on the cushions. There was a burst of laughter as we lurched against the pillows in our haste to remove the rest of our clothing and someone kicked over a bowl of something hot and deliciously scented. “I think that was the Yamok sauce,” I joked, looking over my shoulder at the pot.</p>
<p>Julian, a smile on his youthful face, rose to his feet and reached out his hands to me, inviting me into the circular, cushion-lined pit that was to be our bed. I reached for a small bottle of lubricant (along with my aged bottle of Kanar) as we sank into the cushions, legs and arms entwined as we drifted into the euphoric dance of physical love. Julian, I soon discovered, need not have worried as he not only discovered all my proper erogenous zones but used his knowledge of Cardassian physiology to find new ones. It was I who found himself at a loss for where to touch Julian, not that he seemed to notice; the blissful smile on his face was all I needed to know that this his needs were being met.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Bashir</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter 19: Bashir</strong>
</p>
<p>My God…</p>
<p>My… dear… God.</p>
<p>The first time was, as Garak had told me, an exploratory adventure as I learned about his body. Cardassians, for all the scaled ridges along the bonier parts of their anatomy, are actually quite smooth in other places where the scales relax and flatten out into sensitive flesh. They shared a surprising number of similarities with other humanoids despite not being evolved from mammals. But an ancestor with mammalian features had apparently left its genetic imprint on their biology, not unlike the curious platypus on Earth, in the form of hair and live births. They were a fascinating species.</p>
<p>But the thing that had left me stunned and initially terrified was how <em>big</em> they grew during arousal. I suppose I could have researched it, but I wanted to find out on my own what it would be like. It took me <em>completely</em> off guard and several fleeting moments of terror consumed me until Garak gently took charge.</p>
<p>After that, I was not only no longer afraid but, God, I <em>wanted</em> him!</p>
<p>We made love twice with a long, drawn out cuddling session in between the frenzied first time and the slow, sedate second time. The second time, naturally, was better than the first, but I’ll admit I loved the awkward moments before our bodies merged for the first time as we figured out who was giving and who was receiving. It turned out that neither of us were especially choosy, Garak admitting it was all the same to him. He was mostly in love with the idea of what our hands and our mouths were doing while the part our genitals played were minor. I found myself in full agreement.</p>
<p>Afterwards, we got slowly inebriated on a bottle of the most incredible Kanar I had ever tasted; it was sweet, luxuriously smooth with a delicate, crisp bite at the finish. It was nearly one hundred years old, from Garak’s private collection of spirits on Cardassia Prime. It also wasn’t as thick as other vintages, which I found fascinating. In between sips, we rolled around together on the cushions, kissing and talking as our hands explored one another’s bodies. There was no rush anymore, no great goal. It was during this time that we sampled the foods I had ordered for our date. It was also during this time that I really looked at Garak’s body in the faint light and it was as I were viewing him for the first time. He was pleasantly toned for a man of his years and much stronger than he made himself appear at first. There was no part of him that my hands, and eventually my mouth, did not explore. He was equally thorough with my own body and it was then that we eased into the more luxuriously sedate second round.</p>
<p>We switched positions and this time, we eased our bodies into the ebb and flow of our mutual desire, paying little attention to where our hands went and who did what; If it felt good, we did it and lived in the moment. I delighted in hearing him gasp, at one-point exclaiming, “Where did you learn to <em>that</em>?”</p>
<p>“Just now when I saw your face contort, so I went for it.” Surprising the spy was the highlight of my evening as my medical knowledge revealed far more places on the Cardassian body that reacted strongly to <em>just</em> the right level of pressure than even Garak knew. I confess I left him at a disadvantage, which left him scrambling to make up for his admitted lack of carnal knowledge where it came to humans.</p>
<p>However, he soon caught up to me and by the time he was finished, I was lying on my back under the Cardassian moon, gasping, while Garak, smug smile on his face and looking <em>quite</em> proud of himself, was lying on his stomach beside me with his chin propped up on my chest. “I believe, my dear Doctor, that I have worn you out with just <em>two</em> bouts of lovemaking.”</p>
<p>“I’m regaining my reserves,” I murmured as I patted him on the head like he was grinning, grey-skinned puppy.</p>
<p>It was nearly two in the morning and I didn’t feel tired. Instead, I felt… Incredible! Like I could dance or fly or sing. I was elated and relaxed at the same time, and so content that nothing could take away my joy. Even Garak’s smug smile couldn’t change anything. I looked at him and then, with a deft motion that caught the former spy off guard, I flipped him onto his back and pinned him to the ground, my hands pressing his wrists into the sand beyond his head. He was still grinning at me, taunting me, <em>teasing</em> me, inviting me to do something to him. It was a game at this point, a fun, sensual game of pleasure where we both won no matter who ended up on top.</p>
<p>Oh, the things he let me to do to him-! He was a patient, gentle teacher who stressed the sensuality of it all, which allowed me to relax and enjoy our time alone together like this. No, he was not at all like his more militaristic brethren; it was as if he were a different species altogether. I was fascinated by it.</p>
<p>Eventually, after a final tussle in the sand and the water which did not lead to further love play but was just the two of us enjoying the environment, however artificial, I looked at the time. It was nearly oh-four-thirty and I wanted to go to bed and sleep. Now, I was finally getting tired, as was my drowsy-eyed companion. I nudged him, “C’mon; let’s head to my quarters,” I said.</p>
<p>Garak nodded as he muttered, “<em>Your</em> quarters, of course, and your overly soft human beds. Those are absolute <em>murder</em> on a Cardassian spine, you know.”</p>
<p>I laughed as he rose and got dressed. “I prefer a firmer mattress, Garak; it won’t be that bad. But if it <em>is</em> that bad, at least you’ll be sleeping next to a doctor.”</p>
<p>“Sleeping, is it? And here I was, fully expecting the good Doctor to seduce me again once we reached his quarters. But no, he intends to actually <em>sleep</em>,” he quipped good-naturedly. As we picked up the rest our belongings from among the pillows and prepared to leave, Garak noticed something that I had nearly forgotten: Edosian orchids, the kind he had raised on Cardassia. I had intended them to be a surprise and meant to gift them to him hours ago. “Are these real?” he asked, snatching them from the pillow. He smelled them and pierced me with his bright, blue-eyed stare. “Where did you get these?” he demanded.</p>
<p>I grabbed the bottle of half-drunk Kanar from the bed along with our glasses and laughed at him. “Have you forgotten that we live on a station which is home to one of the most resourceful Ferengi I’ve ever met?”</p>
<p>Garak shook his head and stepped up beside me, grinning, “Quark, of course. A word or two to someone on Cardassia Prime and a few days later we get orchids. For all I know, these were plucked from my own garden. Regardless, I’m delighted to have them. Thank you.”</p>
<p>We were about to leave when the alert chime on the holosuite echoed throughout the room. I ignored it, assumed it was nothing and prepared to leave. “Computer, end—” Garak stopped me by laying his hand on my arm.</p>
<p>“Please, don’t. I want to leave it like this—looking like this. End program after I step outside, would you? It’s ridiculously sentimental, I know, and Tain always said I was a sentimental fool of a Cardassian, but… Allow me my sentimentality this once.”</p>
<p>“Of course,” I smiled, and he kissed my cheek fondly.</p>
<p>“I’m headed to my quarters to put these in water, my dear. I’ll be along shortly,” he said as he exited the room.</p>
<p>I watched him leave and only after he was out of sight, I said, “Computer, end program.” I looked around the empty space and prepared to step outside when the chime rang again, this time followed by the inexperienced voice of one of our most recent Starfleet graduates, a Bajoran named Kalit Ahnne. I didn’t know her very well because she worked the night shift in Ops, but I did know her voice. “Forgive me, doctor, I know it’s late—or-or early, and I know I was under express orders not to disturb you but… Someone is here to see you.”</p>
<p>“At <em>this</em> hour? I haven’t been to bed yet and I’m exhausted. Can they wait?” I begged as I put my comm-badge on my shirt.</p>
<p>“I apologize, but she said ‘no’. She needs to see you immediately.”</p>
<p>“’She’? She—who?”</p>
<p>It’s a Vulcan, sir. Or part Vulcan… She also looks Romulan, maybe. She says her name K’Vash. She said to meet her at your quarters immediately and to-to bring along Mister Garak. I don’t know why.”</p>
<p>“Was she impossibly beautiful and did she have a stiletto-sharp smile that could cut you to shreds if she used it as a weapon? And tell me; did she have stick-straight posture with her hands tucked behind her back at all times?”</p>
<p>“Aye sir, all of that. The fact that she was dressed all in black was disarming, sir. And she has a way of speaking that…” The lieutenant shuddered, a sensation that I shared.</p>
<p>At the mention of that woman’s name, my heart sank. This was the point where my day, perhaps even my entire week, was ruined by the arrival of a single woman from my past: K’Vash, captain of a small Defiant-like vessel with no designation save one…</p>
<p>…Section Thirty-One.</p>
<p>Shit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>End…</p>
<p>For now.</p>
<p> </p>
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